I Am From

I've read about this through one of my blogs. It's actually a writing activity wherein you just have to fill it up with memories. Ü So, here it is.

I Am From

I am from our dogs' barks, the strange man's horses' neighs and stray cats' meows. From Century tuna in the afternoons, Centrum vitamins after dinner and skyflakes at midnights.

I am from the "ship-looking", new house on the block. From tiled floors, non-painted walls and windows that refuse to open. From creaky stairs, whose steps were made of several 2x2 slabs nailed together.

I am from the yellowing ampalaya vines, from the bloody-red bugambilya that climbed up the nearest tree , the vast lands of nothing but dry grass that were more than once set on fire leaving nothing but black soot on white shirts and pungent smell on pants.

I am from religious meetings, religious camps and jocular people. From Jim, Grace and Jaizon.

I am from singing during power outages and seeing cousins once a year during Christmas.

I am from grandmom's mischief as a child and rice coming out of your body through your wound if you refuse to let the them clean it.

I am from a big picture of Jesus hung on my brother's room and a big, glow-in-the-dark rosary in the hallway. From visita iglesia on good fridays, attending service meetings and family prayers in the living room at night.

I am from a public ward and a borrowed pantali sa pusod and from people who worked in farms and mental institutions. From grilled tilapia for lunch and steamy champorados on hot afternoons.

I am from dad singing at the top of his voice, from mom's frequent, tinkling laughs and from my big brother's giving ways.

I am from photo albums stashed away (only leaving their place when someone important comes to visit) and photo albums so battered with age that it now falls apart when perused, from blown-up pictures of my parents' wedding, my brother when he's three and me when I was three. From the old TV cabinet now full of files, the two old bookcases staggering from the weight, the patched bed covers and the stained curtains billowing in the early morning breeze.

I am from the hands of those who are apart most of the times but whose hearts are stitched together by love.

Here is the link for the format...