Where I'm From

I am from grandma’s cross-stitch framed in hallways,
clipped coupons and clean countertops.
I am from old country music on the stereo every Sunday
after church, after big breakfasts.

I am from hanging potted plants,
family pictures by the fence
antique rose hydrangeas and
daylilies in spring.
I am from a porch full of
painting toe nails, waiting for dates,
laughing on the phone,
crying when she died.

I am from St. Pius X, Schmige’s Junkyard, and the
original 3,2,1 Video.
I am from dipped cones at the DQ.

I am from great grandma Elsie’s
handmade dolls and polka.
I am from Bearcat’s float plane,
diving off the dock, and
water so clear you can see the bottom.

I am from Aunt Robyne’s real ghost stories
and dad’s biker brothers,
Harleys and long hair
and Uncle Rick’s rock band.
I am from honest to God, no things count, and
rock, paper, scissors

I am from strong coffee
and Butch’s carmel rolls at family reunions.
I am from grandma’s Christmas cut-outs and
counting on mom’s apple crisp in fall.

I’m from a closet filled with half finished scrapbooks,
boxes of eighth grade notes, plastic gold trophies, and
on a lonely hanger is that navy dress I wore to too
many funerals of friends.

I am from sweet dreams, tuck me ins,
and never go to bed angry.
I am from bedtime prayers, night lights,
and never too old for hugs and kisses.