Where I'm From ...by Mac

As most of you know, I homeschool my three youngest children, while my eldest, Mac, goes to public school. I try to keep on top of what he does there just as I would if he were here. The school has a website where I can check his grades each day. I often know how well he's doing even before he does. I attend every parent teacher conference, go to his football games, cross country meets, and National Honor Society meetings.

He's growing up. But he's still my baby. This year Mac is a junior. He's taking three AP classes, and for his AP English, he had to write a poem about what has made him who he is. Most of you have probably seen these before. They had to include pictures. Mac knew just what pictures he wanted, and I was happy that I had been such a camera freak so that he had a visual reminder to go with his memories.

I loved what Mac wrote. It probably won't mean as much to all of you, but his grandparents read too, and I think that they'll enjoy this. By the way, Mac had no problem with me posting this. I asked first.





I am from wax paper spilled on the floor
In my play car, I would go to the store
I am from raw onions, carefully sliced
From oversized T-shirts to bed every night

I’m from a house that was not in the town
Had a guitar that I played upside-down
I’m from a golf club shot straight to the head,
My brother’s blood spilling out in bright red

I’m from square pizza every Friday,
Eating Popsicles, going out to play
Everything was kept in perfect order
Preaching sermons and songs into my tape recorder

I am from siblings younger than me
Great-grandparents, both sides of the family tree
I am from Yahtzee, and Uno, and Chess
Building new worlds with my old Lego sets

I am from crew cuts and crooked front teeth
Watching “Barney” on my potty-seat
Camping and swimming and days in the sun
Frozen in time in the place I come from