I am from Liberty St.
and the red roses climbing up
the wrought iron rose arbor
my Dad made in the backyard.
I’m from the back alley-way,
with buildings so high my
baseball throws wouldn’t
reach the windows.
I’m from the creak of an
old house, and the city
traffic outside my window.
I’m from the crumbling
brick of my first home,
and my neighbors baklava.

I am from warm days and
cold nights in summer
on the beach.
I’m from my laughable and
loveable family vacations,
and the calling of the waves.

I am from chocolate chip
cookie dough in the
big, yellow bowl with
the wooden spoon
I used to lick off.
I’m from those warm,
lazy afternoons after
baking cookies.

I am from fishing,
talking, and our
political family arguments.
I’m from chocolate dessert
to Nutcracker dolls and
eating lots of Italian food
even though we are German.
I’m from the family legacy
of all the girls having
the middle name Louise.
I’m from “can-never-be-wrongs”
and “mind-your-manners.”

I am from my Dad’s favorite
sayings and the books
my Mom can’t put down.
I am from a sculptor, welder,
and artist.
I am from a reader, problem-solver,
and rationalist.
I am from the people
I care about most,
my family.