I am from sticky 49 cent cones from the drive through of McDonald’s,
from the town of abandoned, aimless, and ancient basketball hoops,
from the homes of now empty nests.
I am from my grandpa’s mocking of David Gruber's “One call, that's all!”
from the fear from my grandpa’s signature ‘octopus hold,’
from the infamous, wrathful words from my father for running around the house.
I am from a clean house that my mother provided,
From nagging from my mother to clean my room when I think it’s spotless,
from papers surrounding my dad’s area without a proper home.
I am from my morning coffee easing the irritabilities the world brings to me,
from tiny diner talks with my dad at our favorite dumpy diner, M&M,
from the mornings where my cat waits for me on his usual perch.
I am from the comfortable silence filling the car as my dad drives me to work,
from the energetic babble from my mom when she talks about her day,
from unavoidable holiday dinner conversation about the different cycles of digestion of food.
I am from my old childhood memories, casual conversations, and lastly from the love from everyone around me who made me who I am today.