I am from a metallic blue golf cart, piggly wiggly brand bread, and bumping into familiar people by chance
I am from the terra cotta colored, inviting, one-story filled with the smell of Estee Lauder Intuition perfume.
I am from the ash trees planted by my grandpa last spring, daises, and the self-cut, three-hole golf course around the house
I am from the Austrian pines, yellow roses and stacked firewood
I am from hand-made spears, shanty’s behind the barn and twins
I am from the line of being late and right on time.
From stealing cookies and having pet bunnies.
I am from St. Hubert’s now changed, relocated and built to be named St. Gabriel’s after a farmer donated his farm land
I’m from the first granddaughter to the grandparents in Las Vegas and a copy of grandpa Herbie’s blonde hair
I’m from the family photo hanging above the fireplace, taken from a rock overlooking Pike Lake, from getting a fish hook in my hand during the shoot and the cigarette butt hidden in the gravel