I am from macaroni-stained bowls
The yell of “get back over here and clean this up.”
From soap bubbles and dirty sinks
And hiding underneath my grandparent’s bed
(Nobody could find me.)

I am from the never-ending pool days
The teasing from my siblings
From the untouched plate of peas
And the empty sour patch kids boxes
From staring down the top shelf, ready to conquer it
From the dogs, the birds, the hamsters, the fish, the cat
And the filled journals
In a stack almost as tall as me

I’m from the party of 7
And the wait for a table big enough
From the weird food challenges on Thanksgiving
And worrying “maybe Great Grandma shouldn’t have eaten that”
From the bruises of the fight
And the scars that never left, even years later
From the police sirens
And the helicopter searching the woods.

I am from not knowing
Constantly being unaware
From listening in on conversations
And searching anywhere for answers
From continually asking if everything was alright
The hope of uncovering the truth
And from realizing I was so far from it

It took me a while to understand the importance
Of living in harmony with my family
Because I am from
Somehow figuring out a way
To love each other