Hey guys, Noah, here.
As you know, I’ve been taking a creative writing class, and I’m really enjoying it. My professor has been coaching and pushing me outside of my comfort zone when it comes to my writing, diving deeper into my emotions, and putting it all out there on paper…even if I don’t have plans to share it with others. I’ll talk about that at a later time. But for one of our exercises, he asked us to finish the line, “Where I’m from…” and here’s my creative writing from that exercise.
Where I’m from…
I am from hockey sticks, Polaris snowmobiles, and the middle of nowhere.
I am from the sounds of gunshots at the crack of dawn on opening morning.
I am from sugar beets and the smell when they sit too long.
I am from Christmas at my Grandparents and hand and foot, from Bob and Helen Bergland.
I am from a family that has your back and is always willing to lend a hand.
I am from where family is everything and money is not.
I am from a Lutheran church but accepting of everyone.
I am from Roseau, MN, Scandinavian country, lefse, and flatbread.
I am from a place where everybody knows your name.
I am from a place where you can see the stars. Blue skies, listening to thunderstorms in the porch and bonfires at night.
I am from a place where we rollerbladed to school.
I am from somewhere where you can run next door to my cousins to play all day.
I am from a small town with the best breakfast, Chinese, pizza, concession stands and food around.
I am from the place where Grandpa Bob pitched hay in a three-piece suit, the boys no older than ten trying to cut off chicken heads, and the days when Jon and Steve were still alive.
I am from pictures in the front yard on the first day of school, cousin weekends at Andrea’s, height markings on the wall, fair weekends, and family reunions, and there is nothing in the world that I would trade it all for.
Thanks for listening,
Noah
