I am from family.
Mom, Dad, sister, dogs.
And a sister God forgot to add
To my blood family.
I am from words.
My own, scribbled on a loose-leaf page.
Others’, neatly bound together.
Some written and recited,
Some belonging to a friend, and me
Secrets and fights stored in a forgotten back drawer.
I am from a cul-de-sac.
A place where we fell and bruised ourselves.
A place where we did stupid things.
A place where childhood lived.
I am from silver and gold.
A cross that hangs around my neck-
If I remember.
Sometimes I forget,
And it takes a hand over a house to remind me.
I am from fire.
I am from the fear,
That only those who’ve sat in a Wal-Mart parking lot,
And heard the words
“Don’t go home,. It’s not going to be there.”
Can understand.
I am from what was supposed to be,
From what never happened.
From what wasn’t meant to be.
I am from warm quilts,
Bedtime hugs
And ‘I love you’s.
I am from a second family.
A family that does not share last names,
Homes,
Or DNA.
But we are a family nonetheless.
I am from workdays with Daddy.
I am from afternoons with Mom.
I am from words filled with venom,
Meant to annoy,
That we never even meant.
I am from good times.
I am from bad times.
I am from me.