I am from dark and light turkey meat,
From memory boards and three black camp bands.
I am from three new blue spruces,
And one evergreen in the front of the house,
And the dirt pile down the road.
I’m from Grampy,
Who tends to be sitting on his chair,
Watching the latest baseball game.
From the salty oceans that dry my lips,
To fresh lakes that keep me calm.

I am from It’s not rocket science,
And In Jesus name, amen.
I’m from a wooden puzzle piece,
Announcing Michelle’s place,
And the calendar filled every inch with family plans.
I am from half done jobs,
Including giving the dog food,
And leaving the water bowl bone dry.
I’m from the jungle next door,
Which is now cut down.
I’m from Megan, Katie, you, right there,
You know who I’m talking to.

I am from the hutch,
Filled with plates painted six years ago,
And yearly school photos,
Stuffed into one frame.
From the purrs from “the fat and friendly”,
To five in the morning wake ups
Because of a squirrel Jake thought he saw.
I’m from pumpkin spice candle smells,
That fill me to the top with joy,
And the trials of moving,
And realizing you’re on the verge of saying goodbye for now.
I’m from She’s not leaving us, only going before us.
I’m from these moments,
And those to come