I am from made up games with the neighborhood boys

from polly pockets and popsicles

I am from the backyards of suburban America

The ones that sound like laughter and mom calling you home for dinner.

I am from the dirt

The dirt that caked my feet and stuck under my nails.

I'm from christmas dinners and green eyes

From mother and father and older sister.

I'm from the readers and the artists.

From get down from there and don't pull the cat's tail.

I'm from the lutheran family with the atheist daughter.

I'm from Minnesota soil and Wisconsin seed.

Cheesy potatoes and pumpkin pie.

From the day mom was diagnosed with cancer

To the day we celebrated her recovery.

I am from the photo album on the top shelf of the front closet that lacks pictures of me because my parents gave up on documenting their kids childhood by the third child.

I am from the neighbors backyard, asking mom if I can stay out just a little longer.