I am from pre-made pie crust
from shurfine and cinnamon sugar
I am from the basement which smelt profusely of mildew
I am from the crabapple tree, and the yellow dandelion forest that inhabited my entire backyard.

I am from Christmas Eve at Grandma’s
and autoimmune diseases,
from Mandi and Pam and Dave,
I am from the timid and the shy,
from the,” Everything will be okay” and the
“ Daddy will be back, I promise.”

I am from the Jesus Loves me This I Know song
which I sang every night while I read the book
and occasionally I sang it with my grandma
I’m from New Mexico and the Raley branch,
tater-tot casserole and tuna salad sandwiches
from losing your boot in the gutter,
to your daughter repeating the action many years later

I am from the blue box in the basement.
The one that contains a broken childhood, one
mended by new photos placed throughout
my family home.

From this, I am a branch among
my broken family tree,
plagued with inevitable tragedy
tying us together,
making us stronger.