I am from a loving grandmother, Irene,/ From trips back to Guyana/ I am from the loud New Jersey,/ From hardworking parents, who never stop giving/ I am from the Jersey Shore and Wildwood weekends,/ From the busy West 7th Street/ Iam from the tan house with brown shutters,/ From the big backyard and family cookouts/ I am from the yellow counter and high stool,/ From Gina playing house

I am from fresh grown tomatoes,/ From Christmastime with many presents/ Iam from the big, red Disney book and Charlotte's Web,/ From old family portraits, long forgotten/ Iam from cuddling with Manda and Sunday dinners,/ From being too impatient and timeouts/ Iam from bottles and Barbie dolls,/ From class with blue tables and chairs

I am from pink polka-dotted wallpaper,/ From dreams of princesses and fairies/ I am from the Barbie night dress,/ From the big silver refrigerator with no food/ I am from Cinderella and Barney/ From Saturday morning cartoons,/ Which were never too early

All of the fun memories and good times,/ Stored away in the big oak tree,/ Where the moments of the past hide,/ Some with laughs and some with tears,/ Waiting for the stories to be told again