I am from butcher knives

From KitchenAid and steel
I am from the dead patches of grass
Dry, brown,
It felt like a pile of needles
I am from the begonias
The columns of maple trees
Forming a bright, green forest
In my grandma’s backyard

I am from baking cookies and blond hair
From Robert, Geraldine and Susan
I am from the bakers and nature lovers
From “Be careful with that knife!”
And “I’m so proud of you.”
I am from the wooden pews
And the many prayers to say at night

I am from the Goodrich hunting grounds
Venison and cheesecake
From the winning deer my grandfather shot,
The sweet aroma of my grandma baking,
And the walks in the forest I took with my grandparents

I am from the family album in my grandma’s room,
Filled with old family and old memories
From when my parents and grandparents were young
And I-
I got the privilege to add to those memories
Which will be in that book forever