I am from homemade jungle gyms, standing in the backyard.
from  baking cookies--that felt like silk in my mouth--with Mom .
From camping with Dad in humid tents.
I am from summer days spent with Grandma and Grandpa.
From shrieking in the backyard,
from soaring into the trees,
butts planted on a plastic swing.
I am from fragile pine trees resting in soft dirt,
waiting to spring.

I’m  from football game get-togethers
cheering, yelling, and salsa in the air.
I’m from Dad’s puns and  Mom’s nagging,
from “Treat others the way you want to be treated”
and “Better late than never.”
I’m from cluttered classrooms on Sunday mornings,
glue and glitter stuck to wooden tables.
I’m from dance recitals and basketball tournaments,  
hair spray mixed with sweaty socks.

I am from the shoebox under my bed,
carrying postcards and movie tickets.
From dirty blonde hair, tangled in the wind.
I am from lemon pies on Thanksgiving,
sneaking pieces when Grandma wasn’t looking.
I am from pine trees,
looming over heads like a giant.
Full grown, like me.