I want you to know that this cake
You’ve baked from scratch
With long fingernails and countless bits of batter stuck underneath
Your hands, to me, were magical beings always creating in underappreciated
Ways, this cake made me feel whole – not full or fat
though yes, I ate it all.

I want you to know that this basket
You’ve weaved from scratch
With disparate pieces of old broken racks, wires, and chunks
Your quasi hoarding of useless junk, we’d always make fun of you for, redeemed
In my eyes, this basket, you strapped to the back of my college bike,
forever useful – for carrying books,
though yes, I lost the bike.

I want you to know that this home
You’ve built from scratch
With calloused hands and weary feet, through many evenings after long days worked
Your refusal to rest until you finish another window or tile, you literally put a roof over
My head, this home gives me every comfort I could ask for – feelings of safety and love,
though yes, I leave now more.

I want you to know that this me
You’ve made from scratch
With no recipes, instructions, or blueprints in mind, but only the guideline of endlessly trying
Your best, and for all the strengths and mistakes that come, they’ve molded me into who I am
This me, she wants you to know, is growing big caring and strong, with no guidelines but you
in mind – trying not to take all you’ve given me for granted,

though yes, I sometimes still do.