I’m from pine, oak and hickory trees
From an old, but sturdy dock.
I’m from lake Pewaukee when it’s mirror smooth,
From the old tree fort in-between the massive oak trees.

I’m from the old blue kitchen,
From the various clay pots and other priceless family heirlooms made by yours truly.
I’m from watching Star Wars (IV thru VI) over and over,
From beeny baby battles with friends in the basement,

I’m from the sweet bike jump that conveniently broke when I ramped off it,
From the front door that I crashed through.
I’m from being attacked by bees after trying to get them off my tree fort,
From being pushed down the stairs by my sister and then forgiving her later that day.

I’m from monthly trips to Minnesota to visit relatives,
From playing football with my cousins in Grandma Lu’s backyard.
I’m from turkey dinners at Aunt Sue’s and Grandma Shirl’s,
From shouting at Vikings vs. Packer games with Uncle Steve.

I’m from these moments, places and possessions
Some fun, happy, sad, and stupid,
But still they will always be apart of me.