Where I’m from

I am from nature,
from pillows and plush clouds.
I am from the vacant tree houses and swingsets,
undaunted yet tranquil, it felt bittersweet.
I am from the oak, the dirt and soil,
which helped me grow.
I’m from the pastimes and chaos,
from aunts and uncles and siblings.
I’m from the jabber and quarrel.

I grew up reciting “work hard” and “study well”
accompanied by my sisters.
I’m from local priests, teaching me right from wrong.

I descend from America and Greece, tzatziki and gyros,
from the snapped arm of my sister
to the cackling laughter of my father.

I am from the dusty isolated attic,
overflowing with memories and mementos.
I am from these misshapen remembrances
predisposed to make millions of my own.
And so on.