I am from floral paintings, wooden cabinets, and from Midnight Summer scented candles.
I am from the redbrick, Victorian style home.
I am from steak and beets, the freshly cut grass, and the echoing ballads of geese.
Where the little white chair sits under the giant oak tree.
From crowding around the conventional, brick fireplace and ire like the flames that enrage there.
I am from the home of the brave and patched teepees, multicolored drums, the language of love.
From celebrating Independence with vibrant fireworks illuminating the night under a blanket of stars and curly brown hair from Dorothy, Janelle, and Garner.
I am from wild conversations and loud loving laughs.
From “when it’s time to go, it’s time to go” and “the Kookaburra sitting in the old gum tree”.
I am from Joshua 24:15, which lies by the front door for security.
From “the queen” exiled from the Friendly CDC to become an addition to the ten jobs that all remain classified.
I am from early morning journeys to soaring, frozen mountaintops to hastening back down before dusk.
I am from the locked, antique chest in the deeply wooded forests, innumerous collages and books of family ancestry.
Of long forgotten possessions and faded, yet seemingly imperishable images now gathering dust in the attic where they remain forevermore,
Daring only to be resurrected in my dreams.