I am from high top sneakers and push down socks, from Fashion Plates and Cabbage Patch Kids, from Rainbrow Brite, see the shining light, and my favourite Lucky Care Bear.
I am from Nerds and Archie comics, a best friend who lived next door, and She-Ra, Princess of Power. I am from banana clips that never stayed in my thick, unruly hair, neon bandanas, and Scooby Dooby Doo, I love you.
I am from brown carpet on the stairs of my old home that I used to pretend was quicksand so we could play Star Wars, falling into Jabba the Hutt's pit.
I am from a living room with giant bay windows, overlooking the forest, and trees swaying in the wind. I am from never ending summer days and building space ships to take us to the moon.
I am from the days of terry cloth dresses and jelly shoes. I am from the little orange television set in our kitchen, the television set that started my fascination with news one cold day in January, 1986, the day the Challenger exploded right before my eyes, tears streaming down my face.
I am from a home that had no fireplace, so Santa wasn't real to me. But the love was plentiful. I am from Monchichi and My Little Pony, and smelling Strawberry Shortcake's hair. I am from a yellow Sony walkman, Debbie Gibson and Tiffany, outfits from Esprit and Benetton, and penny loafers.
I am from the smell of fresh baked bread, big Greek family dinners, and cracking red eggs at Easter. I am from staying up really late to go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve. I am from strong family traditions.
I am from worry and anxiety attacks.
I am from "Be nice to your sister," and "Loukia, did you get in trouble again?"
I am from Greece and Canada, McDonald's as a treat after Greek School on Saturday mornings, and Pastitso baking in the oven on Sunday nights.
I am from bike rides to the 7-11, family picnics at Mooney's Bay, and Mediterranean summers.
I am from Hilroy notebooks filled with cut-out pictures from Bop magazine, dance recitals, jazz hands, and singing camp songs on bumpy buses. I am from shopping trips with my father to buy the very best camping backpack (it was bright blue) for my first—and only, my God—camping trip, complete with tents. I almost got eaten by a bear, I swear.
I am from rubber band and gimp bracelets, mis-matched earrings, and Bonne Bell shimmer lip gloss in a tube, given to me by my favourite babysitter.
I am from rocks and stamp collections, carving soap on my front porch, and collecting spoons from cities I had visited. I am from watching Annie seven million times, and keeping a diary and writing bad poetry when I was 12.
I am from burning my nose on a car lighter in grade 6, and being made fun of every day for weeks on end. "Hi, Rudolph!" they'd all say. I'm from reading my first 'novel' that my mom bought me, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, by Judy Bloom, in the basement of 58 Greenboro. I'm from lying in bed next to my mother and holding on to her hair so she wouldn't leave.
I'm from taking care of my baby sister, running with her in my arms, and dropping her when she was just a baby, head first, into the cold concrete on a Toronto sidewalk, and being yelled at all the way to the hospital.
I am from "But daddy, I promise I won't do it again..." and "Yes, I studied. Yes, I swear." I am from Alyssa Milano hair and crushes on Tony Danza and Kirk Cameron.
I am from a big wooden box filled with pictures of my childhood, the smell of moth balls in my grandmother's chest in her apartment in Greece filled with trinkets and old passports, and memories that are so fresh in my mind, they make me smile.
This writing prompt has been going around the blogosphere this week, and it is such a great trip through memory lane. You really should do this, too—I'd love to read about where you're from.