I am from the everyday rain in Seattle

to the dying pine trees in the Sawtooths.

the musty, oily smell of the grandparents’ garage,

and the dance room where family-ships with cousins were born.
I am from “Jesus loves you!”

“Night, night, sleep tight, wuv oo too”

and untamed curly hair.
From Elmo’s World and the opening song of Sesame Street

that I still sing today,

from “Hector and Prudence” and all the other stories I was read

during my early childhood.
I am from rock, the music I started with.

I am from the crisp swish of carving turns

while flying through icy, biting snow,

the favorite sport which crippled me.
I am from game, set, match,

and a satisfying ace.
From a drip of sweat

that clears a path through the mountain dirt caked onto my face,

the thrill of soaring downhill on two wheels,

the daily scrape or bruise, and the manufactured smell of Band-Aids.
I am from a well-hidden insanity that surfaces only amidst its kin.
From the soft fur,

breathing or polyester,

that holds my caged secrets

safe inside.
I am from Hungary mixed with England,

fiery tempers conjoined to manners,

and loving each other through disagreement

while hiding everything inside.
I am from deliciously fattening pankakka and holiday cinnamon rolls,

stuffing our faces while walking to the dinner table,

and chewing during prayer.
From brother Peter pierced with an arrow,

and a devastating car wreck,

which marked all of us.
I am from stubbornness, obsessive-compulsive traits, and pre-occupied busyness,

extreme frustration and temper tantrums.
From no-name Christianity,


the Bible and struggling to obey it,

and a personal relationship with the God of the universe.
I am from alternative music, to which I turned during my pre-teens.

I am from tearful goodbyes to siblings,

mumbling farewell to the dust of my lifetime playmates long gone tracks,

and yearning to superglue their feet to the tiled kitchen floor.
I am from the endless tunes I’ve memorized running through my head,

a line of this, a line of that,

the vibrato of a cold, metal, flute,

and classical music, with the most delicious melodies.
From books,

Barnes and Noble,

and getting lost in that preferred world,

adventure stories and eating up every page of

The Lord of the Rings.
I am from shoving needs away but expecting them to be met,

expecting understanding and sympathy.
From desperately clinging to the fading shreds of childhood

and being the only one left who still wants to play.
I am from tearful confessions

and a God who still loves us after all these years.

the tearing and repairing of my ACL that strengthened my faith along with my
legs.
I am from Christian music, which truly explains me now.
I am from dark basement corners, stacks of mementos piled high in the attic, and an
occasional scrapbook stuffed with times I am forever grateful for.

Thank You.