I did a lot of catching up today - spoke to folks back home and one of my closest friends who just turned 17 today! It was great just listening to the sound of their voices, missed them so much.
This meme is about things in my childhood which I hold very close to my heart!
The comic strip below reminded me of how my sister and I used to hunt for our Christmas presents before the day arrived. I still remember trying to act surprised when I unwrapped my much sought-after flower-making kit!
I am from
I am from delightful rambunctious thunderstorms, from the twinkling keys of C. Steinbert, from verdant fields dotted with wildflowers and shy grass.
I am from the white parsonage next to the church surrounded by pine trees rustling in the breeze. I am from the seven colours God paints so beautifully, the zig-zagged paths of the dragonflies, the little flower that opens, the little bird that sings. I am from doodles with Crayola crayons, and cuddling with a good book until the lights go out. I am from toothless grins, twirling skirts and french braids. I am from the fuzzy-wuzzy caterpillar, the great twilight moths and the fireflies in the evening. From the sunset that sets the sky aflame and frangipanis that looked divine tucked behind a little girl's ear.
I am from jump-rope and smooth stones and playing hopscotch until recess is over. I am from the delightful set of swings hanging from chains and bike rides (downhill, with no hands!) and lego bricks. I am from trees growing in your stomach if you swallow the seeds and a bit of dirt.
I am from Sunday evenings spent with cousins hiding-and-seeking and straying about the "wild back garden". I am from exuberant off-key karaoke sessions and pillow fights, followed by a tidal wave of laughter. I am from asking and receiving (from God) parking spaces, tummy-aches to go away - and a little sister. I am from much loved Christmas Eves at my grandparents’ home – sparkling little faces so full of joy, the table arrayed with a glorious feast, gifts piled waist high and carols emanating from strong vibratos with heart-filled gratitude for the Bethlehem babe.
From “Jesus loves me this I know” and “don’t wear that, it’s indecent”.
From “we only expect you to do your best” and “all things work together for good”.
I am from Christians who have faith in God and follow Him in spite of the heartaches and curved balls life throws at them. From baking sessions with my grandmas whilst listening to their quaint talk about stories of the past. From fishing trips, and building castles by the sea and in the sky. From mum’s exquisite smoking dresses, and dad’s delicious dishes, grandpa’s poetry as deep and lush as trumpet bells, and grandmas' thickets of lush bougainvillea. I am from growing up with one most loved sister, late nights of Barney and musicals. From lovable destructo spaniels and wet puppy kisses.
I am from churchgoers and readers and musicians, from Ho Hon and Mary and Michael and Adeline and Ben and Fiona. I am from inquisitive minds, and skilled hands, and giving hearts.
From white-paged photo albums where precious pictures were placed with loving hands, and family and faith were valued above all the rust-gathering trinkets that any amount of money could buy.
This meme is about things in my childhood which I hold very close to my heart!
The comic strip below reminded me of how my sister and I used to hunt for our Christmas presents before the day arrived. I still remember trying to act surprised when I unwrapped my much sought-after flower-making kit!
I am from
I am from delightful rambunctious thunderstorms, from the twinkling keys of C. Steinbert, from verdant fields dotted with wildflowers and shy grass.
I am from the white parsonage next to the church surrounded by pine trees rustling in the breeze. I am from the seven colours God paints so beautifully, the zig-zagged paths of the dragonflies, the little flower that opens, the little bird that sings. I am from doodles with Crayola crayons, and cuddling with a good book until the lights go out. I am from toothless grins, twirling skirts and french braids. I am from the fuzzy-wuzzy caterpillar, the great twilight moths and the fireflies in the evening. From the sunset that sets the sky aflame and frangipanis that looked divine tucked behind a little girl's ear.
I am from jump-rope and smooth stones and playing hopscotch until recess is over. I am from the delightful set of swings hanging from chains and bike rides (downhill, with no hands!) and lego bricks. I am from trees growing in your stomach if you swallow the seeds and a bit of dirt.
I am from Sunday evenings spent with cousins hiding-and-seeking and straying about the "wild back garden". I am from exuberant off-key karaoke sessions and pillow fights, followed by a tidal wave of laughter. I am from asking and receiving (from God) parking spaces, tummy-aches to go away - and a little sister. I am from much loved Christmas Eves at my grandparents’ home – sparkling little faces so full of joy, the table arrayed with a glorious feast, gifts piled waist high and carols emanating from strong vibratos with heart-filled gratitude for the Bethlehem babe.
From “Jesus loves me this I know” and “don’t wear that, it’s indecent”.
From “we only expect you to do your best” and “all things work together for good”.
I am from Christians who have faith in God and follow Him in spite of the heartaches and curved balls life throws at them. From baking sessions with my grandmas whilst listening to their quaint talk about stories of the past. From fishing trips, and building castles by the sea and in the sky. From mum’s exquisite smoking dresses, and dad’s delicious dishes, grandpa’s poetry as deep and lush as trumpet bells, and grandmas' thickets of lush bougainvillea. I am from growing up with one most loved sister, late nights of Barney and musicals. From lovable destructo spaniels and wet puppy kisses.
I am from churchgoers and readers and musicians, from Ho Hon and Mary and Michael and Adeline and Ben and Fiona. I am from inquisitive minds, and skilled hands, and giving hearts.
From white-paged photo albums where precious pictures were placed with loving hands, and family and faith were valued above all the rust-gathering trinkets that any amount of money could buy.
I have always loved this poem, Abby, as it brings back sweet memories of those precious times of childhood and growing up. Fio
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