I am from the piano,

From Yamaha and broken keys.

I am from the grey shutters on the windows,

Dull but comforting to see on my long walks home.

I am from black butterflies,

The giant oak tree

That stood tall and stubborn like an unmovable man.

I am from kickball and beautiful voices,

From Ollie Mae and Anna and Howard.

I am from musical instruments and humorous nights.

From “Speak up child.” and “That’s what I’m talking about!”

I am from “It is well with my soul,”

My great-grandmother singing her favorite song in church,

Her luminous voice still strong at 80,

I am from military births and Lewis & Clark,

Nana’s cookies and granny’s macaroni

From my great-grandfather’s long gone legs,

The “inside-out eyelid” scare tactics

And deaths before their time.

I am from the attics of grandparents

The camphor trunk in my dad’s closet

The countless bags of pictures are a trademark of our family memories.