I am from lifejackets,
from swimsuits and inner tubes.
I’m from the whirl pool my uncle would generate in the pool.
I am from burnt faces and tired eyes,
as if tubing in the beating sun grant us more energy.
I am from the waves hitting the edge of the white pier.

I’m from exhausting nights and early mornings,
from my dad’s voice shouting “Rise n’ Shine!”
I am from mud pies and slip and slides,
from dirty hands and wet hair.
I am from the campfire in the backyard,
from the marshmallow stains on oversized sweatshirts.

I am from the buoy on the pontoon,
from the cheese and cracker crumbs in the seats.
I am from flashing sparklers,
from the fireworks on the Fourth of July.
I’m from the frogs that hide in the grass,
from the wind that brushes past our windows.
I am from the white and brown house on the glistening sea.