I am from video games,

from a Nintendo GameBoy and a Yamaha Guitar.

I am from the dirt and grass and memories outside that is now covered with cement.

I am from the mango tree,

the guava tree, and persimmon tree, and the many that are beginning to wither.

I am from the beads of the rosaries we held every night,

from being short and dark skinned, from Lanie and Domingo and Cleto.

I am from the cheerfulness and the loud laughs that our neighbors could hear at night.

From “Always behave” and “Study hard.”

I am from Catholicism,

from going to Church at 11:30 on Sundays and praying every night, hoping for a better life.

I am from San Diego, Jasmine rice, and Yuban coffee.

I am from the large scar my grandfather got when swimming near a ship,

to the tattoo he got when he was my age and the sacrifices my mother made to keep me in a private school.

I am from the shelf above my tv, above the cabinets, and all over my room,

from the scattered polaroids in the garage,

to the clutter and mess of my toys in the shed.

I am from an imperfect perfection that is perfect to me.