I am from pencils, from stories and letters written with #2.
I am from the messy garage-dusty and grungy and smelling of yard work.
I am from the water, the lake whose solid being hates change.
I am from Christmas at Grandmas and sickness abounding, from Jeni and Dave and McCullough and Turnacliff.
I am from the going to church on holidays and laundry every saturday.
From your face is going to stay like that and don’t throw food.
I am from church on Sunday and Confirmation and Corinthians and Communion.
I’m from Barb and Gary and I don’t know the other two. I’m from green bean casserole and cheesy potatoes.
From the days at grandmas-swimming, parades, drunken uncles diving into a shallow pool. Mostly sleeping on damp couches and wishing to stay.

I am from boxes and bags and bundles of stories-moments we all want back. They were easier.