I am from where the creek runs through town, from Tang and fresh-caught dungeness crab.
I am from the blueberry inn, the rock wall with the rope swing, cedar lined closets, and the best seat in town on the 4th of July.
I am from the summer salmonberries and skunk cabbage, the limpets and goeducks.
I am from lazy Sundays and scenic drives, from perseverance’s stairs and the Causeway and polishing rocks.
I am from taking on too much, walking barefoot and microwave breadboxes.
From bears in the outhouse and shark-free seas.
I am from hell and damnation catholic school days, potluck Methodist nights and learning to dress for neither.
I’m from a small fishing village on a green isle, plank salmon and cheesy potatoes.
From the bikini briefs bear chasing, the devils club patch, and the day trips of Dad’s sailboat, from photographers and naturalists.
I am from old black trunks, slide reels, and sweet moss-covered boardwalks. I am grateful for this home harbor I call home.
Knitter. Soaper. Indie Dyer. Yogini. Photographer. Champion of Simple. Slayer of Good Grammer. Maestro of the ‘Mom’ voice.
Read more by Liberty at Digging on Purpose