Page 66 - Wallingford Magazine Issue 59 Spring 2026

Sand to Sidewalk

I am from sandy floors and sandy sheets,
from soggy, salty bathing suits.
I am from bungalow 223 (cold water in the shower)
I am from the ocean roar at night, the full moon
with a face wide open in the big black sky,
high tide spraying the window screen.
I’m from bare feet.

I’m from the flame of melting marshmallows
at the nightly bonfires, the slurp of strawberry
ice cream cones from the Sugar Bowl,
thanks to dimes from Jody or Carolyn.
I’m from that family of so many girls with one brother,
Tom, the lifeguard, who went to war like all the rest,
and did come back, thanks-be-to-God.
I’m from vinegar on sunburn. “Don’t fight with your sister.”
Tell Me Why sung in harmony and “Here’s a dishtowel.”
I’m from crowded car rides back to the city
in time for school. Tuesday after Labor Day. Are we there yet?

And then – I’m from, “Put your shoes on.” “Wash your hands.”
“Set the table.” “Not so much noise, the neighbors will hear you.”
From sand to sidewalks, tide to traffic horns,
barefoot freedom to oxford tie shoes,
pleated skirts and middy blouses.
I’m from “How long ‘til next summer?”
by Anne Crawford Storz

I'm From...

I’m from barnyard and stables and horse plop on the lawn.
And from bags filled with newspapers to deliver at dawn.
I’m from squeaky front door and creaky back stairs ...
and I’m from “pitch-in and help” and “play fairly and share!’

I’m from six older siblings, two dogs and a cat ...
and from a house full of friends and, of course, Mom and Dad.
I’m from apple trees planted and each named for a child ...
from words of “be honest,” “mind your manners,” and “smile!”

I’m from the garden where we grew the tomatoes Mom canned ...
from the kitchen where grease spilled and scalded her hand.
I’m from the troubles we had and the joys we embraced ...
and from “making ends meet” and “leaving nothing to waste.”

I’m from a very old farmhouse on the east side of town.
The house is no longer standing ... they finally tore it down
to build a strip-mall of stores where my friends and I played.
I’m still from that old homestead ... I still feel it today.

I still carry it with me in my heart and soul ...
It formed the roots of my “nature.” Everywhere that I go
it still guides my intentions, my words and my deeds.
I’m from a place where I grew up and learned to “be Me!’
by Richard Carr

66 WALLINGFORD MAGAZINE - SPRING 2026