I Am From....

When I first started blogging I had come across this meme, it's sort of a meme but not really. And I vividly remember reading some of the entries and thinking WOW, they're amazing. I've always wanted to do it and completely forgot about it until today, for some reason as I lay in bed with my two little sick ones, it came rushing back and I knew I had to blog about it.

I would love to see yours too, so if you're one of my blog readers and want to join in, just let me know in the comments so I can come read yours.

The exercise is based on a poem by George Ella Lyons called Where I'm From. Fred's post includes a guide to help those who might need it, which of course would be me.

My grandmother's hands....I LOVE this photo

I AM FROM.....

I am from aprons and greatgrandmothers cooking in the kitchen, from tea with milk in the morning and wholesome homemade food for dinner.

I am from a seaside town, from fresh seafood and big family gatherings. From the smell of the ocean and the sound of the seagulls, from the narrow roads and the sound of kids playing outside until after sunset, from cashew nuts and warm afternoons on white sandy beaches.

I am from palm trees, from dense scrub-brush and impressive palm groves, from waves washing onto the beach and tourists sun tanning.

I am from big family dinners, talking and singing, from a loving family, from Ema and Eduardo and Odete and Julio, from Jacinta and Antonio. I am from skillful hands, and loving hearts. From talented singers and painters.

I am from Christian family loving people, from dinner tables set for twenty, from beer bottles and wine, from talking too loud and laughing too much. From survivors of the Independence War in Mozambique, from fighters and courageous souls. From Portuguese, Brazilian and French.

I am from "wear a coat or you'll get sick" and from "don't go swimming right after you eat, wait at least 3 hours".

I am from Mozambique and from Portugal, from big plates of prawns and curry, from steaks and fries and from sweet rice pudding.

From the men who went to war during the independence and fought with all their hearts, from the greatgrandmother and grandmother who bought me little toy pots and pans to practice cooking, from grandfather Julio who loved life and loved to laugh, from grandfather Antonio who was a brilliant guitar player and accompanied one of Portugal's famous Fado singers.

I am from old photographs kept in boxes in the closet, from photo albums stained from age barely holding together the memories of years gone by, from crocheted pot holders created by loving hands and big family trips by car.