I belong to the whimsical house on windrush
where the flowers on the porch welcome and the paintings transport.
Doors and stairs let me know who arrived...

I belong to magical nights reading about the Adventures of Harry
climbing trees and ending the day with sap-filled hands,
neighborhood parties where cotton candy and familiar friends.
Monsters and magical creatures that lived in my room...

I belong quiet and tired raining mornings off to school,
giggling with friends at our all-school Mass on Thursday.
Quickness with art and reading, yet slowness of math and science and
the inside jokes that make my stomach tighten with laughter...

I belong to the pilot and the flight attendant,
accompanied by the doctor, the businessman,the chiropractor/comedian who are older
and the genius and favorite who is younger…

I belong to the art that can make a heart race,
food that is filled with love and flavor,
a joke that makes our crowd of seven cry
Battling that ends in laughter...

I belong to the blonde hair, ever changing in length,
blue eyes that stare into a different world hidden,
thumbs, raw from anxiety and
pale skin that turns red, often...

I belong to the 15 minutes realizing a full life is possible.
A month spent selflessly instead of selfishly.
Albert, the mountain, that taught me the vast love within me for the planet...

I belong to dreams within me,
fearlessness to stand out,
the strength that I forget I possess and the
fear of my uncertain future..

But, I still belong to the whimsical house on windrush
where the flowers on the porch welcome and the paintings transport.
Loud doors and stairs let you know who is home.