I am apple scented candles,
I'm Betty Crocker boxes and Random House books stacked on the kitchen counter
I was in the house that somehow always had company,
cozy, warm,
with smells of hazelnut coffee and burnt toast.
I am the honeysuckle bush blooming on side of the house,
the hydrangea plant
whose vivacious purple petals were clipped in the spring and put in a curvy glass vase.
I rise for pancakes on Sunday morning and a thick New York accent,
I'm the Joans’ and the Stephanies’
and all the Theodores’ in between.
I’m from a family of overthinkers and
big dreamers.

I was raised on “say please and thank you” and
“wash your hands before dinner.”
I’m know to say grace and give thanks,
and bow your head before bed.

I’m from a little bit of everywhere and a little bit of everything,
wedding cookies and pasta fazul,
From the dust of which my grandmother rose in the hard times of ‘82
and the sighs of loss for that beloved woman when December 2nd comes around.

I'm the crystal lined frames that cover our entryway filled with memories and good times.
I am from a strong line of women whose big shoes it’s my job to fill.