Where I’m From

I am from mosquito lotion
From Burt’s Bees and soft jazz.
I am from dancing with my grandfather on the wooden floor
(My feet, bare, pink with tiny toes
Stepping on his shiny shoes as we twirled.)
I am from the rainy mornings
The hiding places
Where no one thinks to look,
And I sit and wait - alone but not lonely.

I am from the indecisiveness and good humour
From the boy who owned only wooden shoes and the lady with the diamonds
I’m from forget me nots,
And the kiss me goodnights.
I’m from the hurt knees and Starry Starry Nights
With a special dedication to you
And I’ll believe in what I want to, thank you very much.

I am from the middle seat to the left of the dinner table,
Second-is-best and Jollibee.
From the comfortable silence
To the “authentic” family ghost stories.
The childhood my father gave up to be able to grow up
And support his family.

I am from the crumbly track,
Fastening sharp spikes on the bottom of my shoes,
The jumpy nerves as I approach my starting block.
From the thump of my heart, my shoes slapping the ground in a rhythm I know so well.
From the rush, the thrill of crossing that finish line.
Watching the day surrender to night, my team stands beside me.
And still I am running

On my shelf I keep a blank notebook
Waiting to be filled with secret fears, adventures and bigger-than-life dreams.
No one knows it exists.
If they find it, they’ll know I want to escape.
I am from these fitful nights,
The toss and turn but don’t wake me ups.
The wanting to be a dream catcher, not just a dream passerby.
In dreams I find no one molding me for a legacy, for a perfect GPA, for a successful future;
Complete control.