I am from a shoeless childhood,

from running carelessly in the rain.
I am from escapades with my brother,
from scribbling on family pictures.
I am from falling out of a pine tree,
from breaking expensive dishes.
I am from diagonal grilled cheeses,
and the rain-gutter regatta
that tested my homemade sailship.

I am from shouting in the halls,
from saying “squabbling le douii!”
I am from calling out contradictions,
from yelling “Fox lies!”
I am from saying “Chea” instead of yes,
and changing vowels to “ooo”

I am from a house on the hills,
from a palace in a child’s eyes.
I am from my brick box of comfort,
from the heart of a wooden maze.
I am from a home built on loyalty,
and two parents to look up to.

I am from enjoying belated nights,
from hating the crackling fireworks.
I am from walking on the train tracks,
from waking to their passing.
I am from coyotes, deer, and turkeys,
from Fourth of July parades.
I am from exploring a forest labyrinth,
and shooting pellet guns with the neighbors.

I am from loitering at reeses,
from a time with no worries.
I am from making jokes in classes,
from fingerpainting and macaroni.
I am from grade school pageants,
and from incubating an egg.
I am from my original squad,
and everlasting nostalgia.