I am from ballet shoes
and soccer cleats,
from D.W. and blankey.

I’m from “watchout or you'll be roadkill,”
and gliding across the pavement,
from asphalt burning my body. 

I am from pumpkin spices scenting the air,
and hair covering my leggings,
from drool in places I walk.

I’m from collecting nuts under trees--
raking leafs and laughing with neighbors--
for the aged man next door.

I am from Miss Me jeans and cowboy boots
and flowers outside my window,
from Heidi and Scott.

I’m from bushy eyebrows and tan skin,
and undersized hair that never expands,
from biting my nervous cheek.

I am from Grandma's crowded living room on Christmas Eve,
and 23 people,
from beef stew, pumpkin pie and homemade hot cocoa.

I’m from holding his hand as he takes his last breath,
and the nursing home where she rested comfortably,
from the “I’ll love you forevers.”

I am from watching her sleep,
and being her shoulder to cry on,
from “snadderpea.”

I’m from “Hey Hey Hey Happy Day,”
and morning notes,
from smiles and positivity throughout.

I am from those moments,
and 5,840 days,
from dreams of the future.