I’m from the peaceful middle not the first but not the last.

A family with only daughters.
I’m from a small wintery town that I can barely remember.
To a suburb where I look out a see a house in every direction.
I’m from a house with weekends that consisted of football games with the family.
My sisters and our cousins creating twister between our parent’s legs while playing tag through the house.
I’m from a house where Fridays ended in family dinners
And weekends with family adventure to places that seemed then to be the magical to our young minds.
I’m from a family where learning to roller skate ended up being a competition that resulted in scrapped knees.
Where we begged to stay out just ten minutes longer.
I’m from a place where days ended with “snake walks” that ended in a slight jog to get home before dark
And waking up weekend mornings to the smell of pancakes and bacon.
I’m from a house where the house was always filled with exotics coming from the kitchen.
My dad cooking up every new recipe he could find.
I’m from a family where sick days turned into movie marathons and chicken noddle soup
I’m from a pace where if you look hard enough you can look up and see the stars bored with the trees that surround the back yard.
And a court that always had noises of joy.
That’s where I’m from.