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Each week we gather around a single word prompt to freewrite for five minutes flat and share our work.
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This week’s FMF writing prompt is: FROM
Well, I turned 40 this past week. It also happens to be my seventh (7!!!) anniversary hosting this lovely writing community. Naturally I’ve been doing a bit of looking back, looking down, looking up, and looking forward.
For this week’s writing exercise, I decided to use inspiration from George Ella Lyon’s poem, “Where I’m from” with a bit of a twist to include what I have become:
I am from bunk beds and flannel sheets.
I have become a queen bed with no flat sheet, only the duvet.
I am from tulips.
I have become a protea.
I am from driving carefree with the windows down.
I have become the one who turns down the radio to find the unknown place.
I am from instant hot chocolate with marshmallows.
I have become Rooibos tea.
I am from an American birth certificate.
I have become a permanent resident of South Africa.
I am from an all-white family.
I have become a multi-racial family.
I am from sandcastles on the shores of Lake Michigan.
I have become a boulder on the east shore of the Atlantic.
I am from holidays at Grandma’s house.
I have become the one who has to come up with a plan.
I am from rollerblades and bike paths.
I have become a slow evening stroll.
I am from automatic cars on the right side of the road.
I have become a stick shift in the left lane, sitting on the right.
I am from Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies.
I have become malva pudding and melktert.
I am from the Ancient of Days
and I am still becoming.
Bonus: In case you missed it, I shared a brief reflection on age and mortality on Instagram the day before I turned 40:
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If so, check out this new short story class for teens starting in September:
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May I change a letter in the prompt to pay homage to the cargo cults? They still exist (rumours of their fading to the contrary), and play a role in the politics of Vanuatu (formerly the New Hebrides).
They say he came down from the skies
as Southern Seas began to burn,
and they say that John Frum never dies,
and that he will one day will return
bearing crates of fresh-greased tools
from Milwaukee, all brand-new,
and ice machines to keep things cool,
and bottled Coca-Cola, too.
We’ve built an airfield by the shore,
with woven planes so he can see
the it’s him we’re waiting for,
and ’till the day he comes we’ll be
disciplined in all respects
just as John Frum would expect.
Beautiful post documenting some of the changes in your life, Kate. The last line is grounding, “I am from the Ancient of Days and I am still becoming.” Belated Happy Birthday.
Happy birthday 🎂
Loved this poem. Happy 40th!
Kate, you are so beautiful, inside and out. Thank you for ALL you do to encourage us as writers! You are a gift in my life. Bless you! And Happy Birthday! (You young one, you.)
Love the poem. Thanks for sharing.
Happy Birthday 🎂!
Congrats on 7 Years!!