Where Are You From, Girl?

I am from where you pray over every meal you eat - whether in your bedroom or the dining room table.

I am from the line of the few crappy trailers that hold so many memories. It also happened to be the home of so many relatives before and after me.

I am from the dead tree stump my grandfather cut down in the wake of a tree falling on the house during the string of summer hurricanes. Three years feels like yesterday.

I am from my mother's story of American American body structures reaffirming my thick thighs and wide shoulders.

I am from the million photos lining the scrapbooks on my grandmothers bookshelf for all to witness.

I am from the many trials and tribulations that surround my family. You know, the ones that go deep a few decades plaguing my ancestors. Yeah, those.

I am from the family where no one is perfect, even me. Yet, a family I am proud to be.

I am from the ideals of life that tells you wealth is measured in good times and love, not money.

I am from the centuries of prayers to be free by my ancestors. It is a cloak that I wear proudly today.

And that is where I am from.