I am from collections of teapots and saucers
Knick-knacks and pictures a plenty.
Iraqi prayer rugs and ugly green carpeting.
I am from falling down white siding,
A huge red and grey block barn adorned with a vast window
70 acres of land- three fields and one large pasture.
Nature is everywhere.
I am from music in the summer air,
The Stix is our definition.
Across the way, nosy neighbors that act like they are superior,
When father is away
Next to the fence, an old school house made anew,
A friend residing of now 7 years.
I am from the youngest of 15, the youngest of 6
I being the youngest of four split.
Two nieces, one nephew.
Grandparents no longer.
I am from “playing it by ear”
Embarrassing “howdy’s” now and then to strangers
And meowing as “she has a little shadow, that follows her around . . .”
I am from freezers stocked with pork and beef.
Toasted sandwiches and bowls of ice cream,
The happy occurrence of strawberry rhubarb pie
And beer showers at parties.
I am from storage boxes in a loft up high,
Suitcase and footlocker locked tight.
Albums and Christmas tapes stashed away
And papers, letters organized in their own way.
I am from vast, peaceful country space
The idea of anything else
In comparison
Is stifling.
