Where I'm From

March 29, 2008
I’m from waking up in the morning surrounded by flowers, so many; I swear that they’ll
Kill me.
I from waking up in the night, feeling the walls shake, the ground tremble, and I watch as she hits the ground with a thump, rustling then drifting back into a long silent sleep.
I’m from looking up, and not knowing where I am or who I’m looking at, though every face looks the same, as they blend into the crowd.
From the endless splinters I get as I walk along the dock and the jelly stings as I swim in the muddy marshes.
And the salt water, I’m from the salt water, the waves as they tumble down on me, bringing me down with them.
I’m from sitting on the bow of Sailor’s sailboat, with the wind in my hair and they smell of beer behind me.
I’m from the places I’ve been and the people I’ve met, so many that I don’t even remember.
I am from tears when I stay up, hearing the yelling as two small bodies like mine come in my room, looking for someone to hold.
I’m from the taste of salt and metal, as he shows me to cast a net.
I’m from pickled Okra, ribs, shrimp gumbo, chicken fried steak, and from pasta, meatloaf, salads, sushi and low sodium soy sauce.
I’m from old pictures and new ones; I’m from second cousins twice removed, god families and from just the five of us, six if you count the dog.
I’m blisters and bruises to scrapes and scars.
From surgery, and hospitals, to the taste of latex in my mouth
I’m from orange tea, and ice tea, from the hot humid summers and the dry crisp winters.
I’m from stories of great grandparents being orphans and loss limb, stories of Immigrants, and her proud voice when she exclaims that she is first generation, while making brownies, the chocolate scent overwhelming.
I’m from sitting in my room speaking in whispers and laughing. From dancing in the rain, to lying down on the wet grass as it tickles my knees and the back of my neck.
I’m from the scent of Chanel, to shaving cream, to chlorine, to melon and strawberries, to my own scent that is yet to be discovered.
Early in the morning, when no one is awake, I creep around looking at the photos of people that I don’t know, and things that are left of them,
Scarves, jewelry and once while I was wondering around in my grandmothers house, I found a dried rose,
And I have forever memorized that scent,
I wonder who it belongs to; I want to find who it belongs to.
I want to climb up the branches of my family tree to find out where I’m from.

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