I am from North Carolina,
from my grandparent’s house.
I am from red dirt and fresh ripe vegetables,
from autumn leaves and back porch visits.
I
am from the limbs of oak and dogwood trees.
I am from my Granny’s beauty shop,
from the laps of old ladies,
with their
hair full of rollers.
I’m from a basement with a kitchen play set,
from princess dresses and Barbie dolls.
I am from a large room with red carpet,
pews in a row, and stained glass windows.
I am from Sunday morning Bible stories,
and crayons to color Jesus with.
I am from times both peaceful and tumultuous.
I am from summers filled with fun,
from muddy lake water and bubbles behind a boat.
I am from the bright explosion of Fourth of July
celebrations.
I’m from hamburgers and homemade ice cream,
from fresh pecan pie and red velvet cake.
There is a photo album on the table in the hall.
I am from those pictures full of Christmas morning
magic,
games of UNO with my aunt,
and outside merriment with my sister.
I am from memories, old and new.
These memories have made me who I am
and to them I shall always return.
