I am from that spot we planted the evergreen tree, outside my second story window, a baby then but grown now, both of us.
I am from brown shutters, second on the left when you hit the cul-de-sac. 2066 Childs Ct.
I’m from unlocked doors and open windows, sunspots on the carpet and blankets over heating vents to trap the hot air.
I am from Christmas Eve at Nani’s and finding the best surface for roller skates like unfinished basements, or garages, or Camp Duncan in November.
I am from Kay and Dom,
from Florence and Joe, the children of Italian immigrants and practicality earned in The Great Depression.
I’m from “Have I told you today how much I love you?” and “If you puke make sure you hit the toilet.”
I’m from touching something red at 11:11 and making a wish.
I’m from small town mid-west, close enough to the City and the cottage in Wauconda.
I’m from watching my dad clean fish he’s caught and oatmeal cookie dough kept in the freezer, and seafood gravy at Christmas,
I’m from Friday night-lights and take your daughter to work day, and playing in the field house.
I am from lying by the fireplace while snow piles in the driveway and piling in the car for late night drives to the city for Italian Ice.
I’m from hide-and-go-seek in the dark and kick-the-can.
I am from the predictable cadence of Catholic mass and the beauty of forgiveness found at sixteen.
I am from God, even when he is a stranger to me.
And I am from the Love and Beauty in it all.
*Written as a free-flow exercise, part of the SheLoves SYNCHROBLOG: I Am From Click on the link and come play along. Leave a comment with a link to your own I Am From poem!