The Early Years

I come from Stardust touching tide pools, camping in high mountain peaks which cradle crystal clear Lakes with plenty of trout to catch for breakfast. I come from a small farm tucked deep within the winding hills of NW Portland, looking down upon a fertile lush valley with a tiny lights twinkling. I am from painted sky sunsets, magical forest dwellings, lots of rainy days and sweet imaginations. I am from running fast and feeling free as quick flashes of elementals enliven the play.

I come from a ragged tribal tapestry of Scots Irish, German, English, French Canadian and the Nez Pierce Nation. All hand dyed threads spun out of courage, daring, dreaming, depression and unholy disasters. An awesome work of art…woven in shades of resilience and survival fear centuries old, whose edges are worn and torn from the sorrows of leaving. All the while I am given a rooted home to grow with just enough care to feel welcome.

I come from two sweet soul’s passionate love story: a handsome young warrior with a fractured heart seduced by a beautiful smiling woman with a deep well of compassion. At first sight they knew mending the post war world was their mandate, too young to have witnessed the horror they had seen, they moved with resilience and a commitment towards the future. The pain and fear would catch up later but for now it would have to wait.. I come this time of let us celebrate.

I come from a foolish idealism which longed for a peaceful world. I am but one seed among many millions planted with a sigh of relief…planted out of the ashes of wars and loss as fear lingered in the shadows.

I come from days of endless garden wonder: little arms filled with daffodils, fuchsia buds to pop open and those lovely bleeding heart dancing ladies. I come from secret forest hideaways, a stately maple matriarch whose branches held, nurtured and listed to innocent discoveries as well as tears of utter despair.

I come from a grandmother who lived next door who loved red, her picture window, pollinating primroses and making magic with her hands. A grandma who had boxes of button and ribbon treasures and funny hats for dress up This woman knew tragedy, loosing her native culture, her parents and her beloved husband to “progress.” She taught me to set a proper table for Sunday dinner and how to shell peas. I come from “Shame on you Marcie, little girls don’t do that!” and a pit in my tummy.

I come from a twinkle in my grandfathers’eye who was always so delighted to see me, his surprise birthday present.. A man had a sense of humour and fiddled the old tunes to dance with while caring for his family. A union organizer well loved by many who died suddenly on a tractor, tearing with finality the fabric of our family fairytale into pieces.

I come from a hardworking nurse and then a mother of six, 5 boys and 1 girl. She was well loved, laughed easily with lots of “you should” and “ go play outside!” as her mantras. She was intelligent, capable, a wonderful spirit who loved dancing and parties. She could name all the wild flowers while walking the earth as her temple. Her art was in creating rhythms that held us loosely as we ran wild in the neighbourhood exploring the edges. She suffers from guilt of a church that could not give women choices or support for their own soul fire.

I come from a father who no longer feared death, but was anxious and explosive at the drop of a hat. I come from fear. He gave up his dream at 24 years old and became a janitor for others to support his growing family. He worked day and night to provide for his family and was totally present in the times when it mattered. I come from sacrifice, loyalty and deep down tender hearted men.

I come from five brothers, a chaotic scene, scary stories, tussles and eventually brutal teasing. I come from capture the flag, hide and go seek and enough neighbourhood kids to play baseball till dusk. I come from imaginary worlds with giggles, making fudge, playing cards and sleeping under the stars. I come from tender monkey moments on the big couch watching Star Trek during dinner. I come the lonely feelings of “How did I get here?, “I must be from another planet!” and “Where is my sister?” as no one dared to notice all that was missing.

I come from the evolving question of “How can we all come together.?” A question that morphs into a beautiful mosaic of light and dark as I age. A question to be held as the ideals of the past mature into seeing this moment just as it is. such a complex life full of everything. I come from gratitude and love for it all.