It's Friday and I've taken a day off from all this writing this past month.
So I sat with Lisa-Jo's prompt all day and we'll see what comes out.
Join the fun by clicking over to her site and linking your own
five minutes of unscripted, unedited response to the prompt: ROOTS
GO:
They go down deep into the dusty soil
of southern California,
pushing their strong tendrils
between the valleys
San Fernando and San Gabriel,
finally winding their way
up the coast
to Santa Barbara.
My parents were transplants,
one from the south,
the other from the north.
Together, they built a family
out of love and dust
and work and creative energy.
There was music,
Oh! there was music.
There was laughter,
lots of laughter.
Raucous, earthy, rich with
insight and sometimes tinged
with sarcasm.
Sunday was for church.
Every day was for faith.
Friday night was for popcorn
and giant Hershey's with almonds
and Bubble-Up,
all of us gathered around the TV
or the puzzle table,
or the game board.
There was never a lot of money,
but that did not matter.
With a dad who knew how to fix things,
a mom who could sew anything,
and a desire to enjoy life,
learn,
grow,
celebrate -
life was a party.
Except when it wasn't.
There were sad pieces.
A younger brother who struggled,
a family-wide battle with anxiety,
some hard history
going back a generation.
But mostly,
there was solidity,
security,
there was home.
Thank you,
thank you,
thank you!
