Where I'm From

I am from the bed,

From comforters and dog hair and warm flannel sheets.

I am from snow-covered pines,

Elk hoof-prints and flatirons.

I am from the old Volvo parked out front,

Thirteen years old,

Glistening champagne,

Still running strong at one hundred thousand and two miles.

I am from beaches and salt air,

The warm kiss of the sun and sand

Caught between the toes.

I am from the green and the woods,

From the trails behind my old house.

I am from the fairs,

The cartoons,

The games we played:

Pretend,

Legos,

The books stacked too tall at my bedside.

I am from tea,

From lamb on Sundays with

What’s-his-name next door.

I am from old friends,

Their habits,

            Nuances of speech and

inflection.

I am from the late night talks with my sister,

The Thomas trains that my brother played with

Once upon a time…

I am from the Disney movies,

The animated Pixar shorts.

I am from the old ballet slippers

And dusty tap shoes

In the back of the closet.

I am from the cat hair of pets long gone,

Of pictures long yellowed and tucked away.

There’s a box

In a corner of

A shelf

Back in Boulder.

Memories overflow and pictures

Scattered across the kitchen table

Remind me of what was

And how it’s made me.

Where I’ve been,

            Where I’m from.

                        And who I am.