I took a writing class with my daughter a few years ago.  I just found one of the assignments in a stack of papers.  It struck me that it still holds true today.  So I thought I would share it.

I come from….

I come from a field that is sometimes plowed, sometimes planted, and sometimes hay.

I come from stacks of books filled with story upon story, fact upon fact.

I come from a list of schedules, all strung together to make things happen during the day.

I come from a house, next to a house, that is next to others, but to me it is home.

I come from three kids who define my evenings and weekends.

I come from my friend, who starts and ends each day with me and who warms me with her laugh and smile.