Cara E. Stolen

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I am from

I am from the long gravel driveway at the top of the third hill on Box Canyon Road. 

The one on the right just before the firehall, with the silver mailbox. 

I am from Satus Pass, forty acres with a creek,

A two-stoplight town on the valley floor.


I am from liberal parents,

A conservative small town,

My best friend’s family farm,

And a Jesuit university.


I am from the high desert, the Columbia Gorge, a high mountain pass on US97.

I am from Southslope Woodworks construction sites and remodel projects;

My dad’s workshop and downtown Portland tile stores; 

NPR news, a built in cabinet full of cassette tapes and photo albums, 

And Bonnie Raitt on the stereo.


I am from Irish ancestors,

Constance Southworth of Mayflower fame,

A small island in the Azores,

And the tiny Sonoma County town where Rah Rah’s backyard pool and my cousins were. 


I am from my mom’s chicken soup and my dad’s homemade pies. 

I am from Anne of Green Gables’ Prince Edward Isle, 

My mom’s solarium with my great-grandma’s Bird of Paradise, 

And the campsite my parents lived in while they built our house.


I am from dusty hiking trails, a paved road that turns to gravel,

And a beach on the snake river (a fact I kinda wish I didn’t know).

I’m from timbered hills and dryland wheat fields,

A craftsman house built by my parents’ four hands, 

A deck just perfect for middle-of-the-night, curled-in-a-comforter, meteor shower viewing.


I am from a hammock between two aspen trees, 

A Carnegie library where the banister squeeks,

An eight-lane all-weather track where the springtime wind blows from the west. 

I’m from a stop on Bus 6’s route, 

The shhhh of the espresso machine at dawn, the snort of the horses in the pasture,

And my dad’s homebrew in the fridge. 


I’m from my mom’s eyebrows and the tart-sweet raspberries and earthy carrots in her garden,

A brown volkswagon vanagon with a pop-up top,

My old blue subaru. 


I am from Tim and Laurie,

Goldendale and its homestead families,

Washington.

The State. 




// This was inspired by my friend Sam Duncan, who wrote these poems with her students. If you feel similarly inspired, I’d love to read yours!