I am from…
I am from my immense green papasan chair
from the solid wooden floors and squishy warm bed.

I am from the white house on the top of the hill
the clutter collected in every room of my house.

I am from the flower bed sweetly nestled beneath my window
the oversized pine tree that lingers over my lawn
whose long limbs gone I remember
as if they were my own.

I am from eating out on Sunday with my family and being the most stubborn of my friends
from Karen and Dan.

I am from babbling on while telling a story and never willing to lose a debate
and from fibbing to get out of trouble with my mom.

I am from “stop doing that” and “NO”
and my mom telling me “the grass is always greener on the other side.”

I am from going to Connecticut for Christmas Eve with the family.

I am from New Jersey and Germany
Spetzel and Lady Fingers.

I am from how my Grammy and Grandpa fell in love in
the timeless classic when the pianist falls for the lovely dancer that was tapping on stage,
the time honored family code of arms
on the painted wall of my room,
the symbol of the journey that my great grandparents took when they left their home country so, one day we could live in freedom and peace.