Inspired by George Ella Lyon’s “Where I’m From”
I am from my red tricycle
From buttered peas and Norah Jones on the radio.
I am from the blood red sumac in my backyard
(Unlearned lessons of sticky hands)
I am from the railing of the stage that my dad made me;
Strong and sturdy, just like him.
I am from ravioli and eye drops,
From Pam and Norma.
I’m from bright yellow daffodils
And joyful shrieking
From emerald gardening gloves dripping with dirt.
I’m from sweet potato pies
With a side of Amen
And wrinkled hands held tight.
I’m from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and rocking horses,
Gauze butterflies and breakfast for dinner.
From stickers stuck to the roof of our Eurovan
To Webster the frog in his steamy glass case.
The plastic-wrapped scrapbooks
Under my grandpa’s loft:
Memories of Old Maid games and birthday cakes
With rainbow sprinkles.
I am from a vegetable soup family;
Thrown together and stirred and warm-
Just like we should be.
- J.S.
