I am from boats, from Speedo and Lipton.
I’m from the lake that sat behind my blue house (glistening, flowing, and hot to the touch in summer.)
I’m from the ancient oak, whose helicopter seeds filled our gutters, and required us to clear them.
I’m from my families Fourth of July water parties.
I’m from Dee and Dan.
I’m from loud talkers, and fresh vegetables.
From “Go bother your sister” and “Did you feed the pets?”
I am from rows of corn and the land of good bread, zucchini and strawberries.
From my mother’s hard medical school.
I am from my family’s old cedar chests full of old memories. Their dusty paintings and rustic artifacts tell and old story, or explain an old tale. Ever aging, ever gathering dust.