I am from brown coffee tables,
from Shea Moisture and Dove.
I am from the yellow walls of the two bedroom apartment.
I am from the chrysantheums that are my mom, the rose buds that stick you.
I am from the family reunions and Jamaican accents,
from Ronald and Marcia and Charles and Dee.
I am from the crazy conversations bout absolutely nothing and meeting up at every holiday,
from Be Who You Are and Do Your Best.
I am from Plainfield and Jamaica, barbeque sauce and beans,
from the time I almost drowned, the Sonic my mom thought was a gas station, and the cookouts in county parks.
I am from boxes and boxes of family photos stored throughout the house and my old dance costumes hanging in the back of my closet,
from helping my mom cook dinner on Sunday afternoons,
from sitting at the table eating dinner together as one.