Where I'm From

January 10, 2011
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Understanding me.
Year two in the life of Emily Leidy.
A baby is born. My brother.
The days of receiving endless attention are over.
Taking out my jealousy by clumsily plunking out tunes on the Yamaha.
Three. I am formally introduced to my singing voice.
Mary has many little lambs, all of which I sing about.
Four. Hopping the neighbor’s fence to steal her tomatoes.
Five. Moving. A new house with a pool.
Life can’t get much better.
School. Aka braiding my hair in the bathroom to avoid math.
An N on my report card for “failure to pay attention”.
The bus. Eleven long years of riding it.
Or missing it.
Picking out the green and yellow Skittles from the bag.
Why do they put them in if no one likes them?
Sauerkraut. Cucumbers with salt and vinegar.
Falling off my bike, my teeth crushing the supporting bone.
Blood everywhere.
Numerous stitches later, my pain tolerance is now much greater.
Fourth of July in Pennsylvania with my dad’s family including my uncle and his
ten kids.
Ironically, the smaller side of the family.
Setting off fireworks in my grandparent’s backyard.
Waving precarious sparklers with five-year-old relatives.
Homemade ice cream.
Definitely worth the work.
Touring England, singing in cathedrals.
Does it ever stop raining?
I wish I had their accent.
Sipping tea. How clichéd.
Virginia Beach.
Surfing, tanning.
Sacred movie nights with my younger brother.
Blanket forts define our relationship.
Finally overcame that jealousy barrier.
Governor’s School.
The accumulation of art geeks.
Understanding, acceptance.
This is where I’m from.

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