I am from

I came across this and thought it was a great idea. Figured I'd give it a shot.
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I am from magic markers, from Crayola and wax.

I am from the yellow sunlight streaming through the kitchen window
as the breeze gently blows the shades.

I am from the daffodils that brighten it all, the dandelions for salad and wine.
From the weeds that are a paradox and the dirt that lies under my feet year after year.

I am from long birthday songs and mothering hips, from Grandpa Joe's silence and Aunt Lori's tears. From mom's eighteen laughs and dad's lengthy snores.

I am from the wonderfully thoughtful, amazing birthday gifts that come a month and a year late and the belly laughs and squeals that turn to tears.

From "milk helps you digest" and "no cap'n crunch or soda".

I am from church on days of funerals and weddings, and belief in something higher. From respecting everyone around you but not reading and prayers. From color blindness and money blindness and statues of the buddha.

I'm from the little hospital in Suffern, New York and the walls of Germany; from the fogs of Ireland to the cities of Poland. I am from chicken frickasee and the most disgustingly delicious brownies smothered in brown sugar and butter. From the crepes we call "French Pancakes" which require the special pans, passed down from Nana who turned 100 years old on a day when I was young. "Plate no fork" and a pound of butter and don't forget to refill the sugar.

From the day Marly broke her arm....at the funeral, the car on Logan's foot, the Friendly's lunches with Grandpa B, and camping in the water gap.

I am from the boxes in attics and closets which hold it all in print, from the tapes of singing and talking and the memories we share.