I am from flowers, from a cold
creek by a barn.
I am from the house surrounded
With snow on top of a hill.
I am from the roots of the tree my
Family has made for me.

I am from the kitchen and sink from
My mother, from my father and brother
I am from the humor and chaos.
From “Don’t touch that you’ll hurt yourself” from going to
The beach and eating the sand.

I am from a family.
From my many cousins, aunts and uncles that fill a room
From the smell of home cooked meals fill the air
From hearing the feet hit the floor
From the hugs I get.

I am from a loving home filled with chili and chicken
From hearing about my uncle and aunts childhood to
How hearing my grandma how easy we kids have it now
I think I am from the tree in the woods.

I am from the book shelf where dusty books and mementos lay
Where stories have been left untold
And books left empty for me to tell my stories.