I come from....    I come from a field that is sometimes plowed, sometimes planted, and sometimes hay. I come from stacks of books filled with story upon story, fact upon fact. I come from a list of schedules, all strung together to make things happen during the day. I come from a house, next to a house, that is next to others, but to me it is home. I come from three kids who define my evenings and weekends. I come from my friend, who starts and ends each day with me and who warms me with her laugh and smile.