I’m from every Sunday morning, waking up to my father cooking breakfast and fighting with my brother and sister over whether he should make pancakes or waffles. I always fought for waffles. And always won because waffles are delicious
I’m from starting every single day to music. I wake up to a new genre every day and if I can’t have my music for whatever reason it never quite feels like my day started. Like I’m in a permanent state of sleep and I sort of just wander and drift throughout the school halls like a ghost.
I’m from the “Italian Routine” as my grandmother calls it. The order goes pasta on Sunday, meat on Monday, Tuesdays is pasta with meat to get rid of the leftovers from Sunday, Wednesdays chicken, Thursday is pasta again and Friday is the mixture of chicken and pasta and Saturday is going out to eat. The same routine of food every single week, every month, every year, since I could chew. The question, what’s for dinner? never really comes up in my house.
I’m from my sister reading me the same book over, and over, and over, until I memorized the text and matched with the pictures, convincing my family I could read at age 2. Eventually my sister caught on and I was busted. My special ability was all a hoax but I was apparently, according to my mother, very proud of my first prank. It was certainly not my last.
I’m from writing picture books, on the picnic table in front of my goldfish Oscar Poosh. We wrote stories together and I used to tell him to get my books published stat or I was gonna throw him in the ocean, although now that I think about it he might have been happier there.
I’m from making the same tea every single day with a specified order. English tea with one scoop of sugar and one drop of honey. Yes, the one drop of honey is crucial. Very Crucial.
I’m from the tall mountains in Italy in a town called Colasante where all my family is. They live on the “knee of the boot” as they call it, on an olive farm.
I’m from waving good-bye to my best friend as she drove away to her new life in a new state with a promise to Skype every single day. Our pinky swear has not yet wavered.
I’m from big books in big libraries with big stories to fill my mind. The magical worlds of the real and unreal to take over my daydreams and fantasies. Fiction characters that become best friends to turn to in days and nights of need. I am a loyal book befriend-er.
I’m that waffle-loving, music-needing, Italian-routiner, book-memorizing, best friend good-by-ing, Oscar Poosh-yelling, tea-loving Italian mountain girl from the Knee of the Boot.. That’s where I’m from.
5 thoughts on “Melissa, Where Are You From?”
I really loved reading your poem. I especially loved the bit where you told the story of when you first learned to “read”. The fact that you added a personal story gave the whole thing this tone like you were talking to a friend.
I really LOVED your poem. It was really descriptive and had a little bit of humor when you said “one scoop of sugar and one drop of honey. Yes, the one drop of honey is crucial. Very Crucial” it showed me how you like your tea every morning and how it has to be perfect. Melissa you are one of my best friends and as your friend I encourage you to write more amazing story’s.
Abby :-p 8-
I really liked your telling because it was funny and serious at the same time. It really explained your life and touched all of your “islands” as Mr Jockers would say. I liked the part when you talked about the waffles because I can relate to that.
Can I just say that I ABSOLUTLY LOVED YOUR PIECE?!? And not just because you included Oscar Poosh (did he ever get any of those picture books published?). Your description was phenomenal, and not only that but the over all feeling of the piece, its just a style that’s so original to you. And don’t get me wrong!!! Its a very good thing, that so many authors strive for. So, in short, excellent job Mel!
p.s. Was the “friend” that moved, Ella?
Sorry I forgot to take the quotation marks away from friend, I was going to quote, and it didn’t work.