Where I am From (Inspired by George Ella Lyon)
 
I am from the crib that I learned not to lean over.
I am from the dent on the floor that my head fits into like a puzzle piece.
I am from the bubble filled sink and the newly dried clothes,
From the burning of meat and asparagus.
 
I am from different prescriptions and doctors visits.
From being carried home and not being able to see my own two feet.
I am from scissors and hair covering every inch of my brother's bathroom.
I am from colored edible clay models, from stacking blocks
and pillow forts that used to be stampeded.
 
I am from the ones who fled and the ones who love cheese curds,
            From the football fans who bleed green and yellow.
I am from the Egyptian Exodus and the sparing of the first born,
            from boils and locusts growing rampant.
 
I am from the albums and the picture books,
And bursting with the forgotten memories and anecdotes of simpler times.
I am from “Jack” to “ball,”
            From “hello” to “hola.”
I am from the unspoken words and the hidden glances,
            and the jokes only we can understand.