I come from sleepovers

on Lake St. Clair in my father's boat
I come from dry-chicken dinners
from my mother’s cooking
I am from all-day pick-up baseball games, and subsequently,
late night pool parties
I am from long workouts with my brother and his band
and the immediate protein shake afterward
I come from rollerblading, skateboarding, and cycling
on the not-so-kind asphalt and pavement
I come from the nervousness I felt
when I had my first kiss with a girl
who isn’t my mother
I am from late-night study sessions in Middle School, which, in retrospect,
I probably did not need to work so hard
I am from grandma’s baked goods which were always too sweet, from the wheat breads and the beets served at dinner
I come from watching Tigers and Lions games with my father
his glass of bourbon always in accompaniment
I am from the hard days and nights
spent on perfecting my soccer skills
I am from after-school and latchkey programs
due to my mother’s demanding job
I am from the everlasting pungent scent
that coated our wood floors
I am from the never-closed doors and the beige carpeting that lined the floors
I come from a humble family in Royal Oak
whom never believed I was a joke
I am from four seasons that plagued my town
and the never-ending calmness that it
crowned