I am from jump ropes,
from band aids and neosporin.
I am from the sandstone in the driveway.
(Brown, grainy
it felt like seeds stuck in my teeth.)
I am from the rhododendron bush,
the bleeding heart
whom blooms of love
as such do I.

I am from home crafted Christmas exchanges and strong hearts,
from Leona and Virginia.
I am from the selfless-givers and re-gifters,
from "settle down" and "go play outside".
I am from 'For I am not ashamed...',
righteousness,
and the freedom of choice.

I'm from rolling hills and Czechoslovakia,
fried chicken and garden picked corn on the cob.
From the toes my grandfather burnt in a farm fire,
the chickadees my mother threw on the smokehouse wall.

I am from old tin cans,
the dusty proofs of country life.