I come from sweltering heat, tumbleweeds,
and barren land.
Listening to stories of places I’ve never seen,
inspiring my love of travel.
I come from a world of climbing trees,
jumping from heights, fearlessly.
Playing in the rain, riding bicycles,
running free in the neighborhood until my parents called me home.
I come from grumpy mornings,
an alarm clock's obscene beeping awakening me.
I come from hiding under the covers,
as the light streamed in from cracks in heavy curtains.
I come from make-believe scenarios,
played out in detail with my brother and sisters.
Walking on my tippy toes,
pretending I was wearing high heels.
I come from homemade fresh bread,
smothered in melted butter.
It was sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar,
I enjoyed every single bite.
I come from burgers and fries,
steak and potatoes smothered in gravy,
salty snacks, salsa and dips,
and breakfast for dinner, because cereal is best enjoyed at night.
I come from an older brother and two younger sisters,
and family within a few feet from the home we lived in.
I come from a history I’ve learned in fragments,
with so many questions and daydreams about the past.
I come from a grandfather who worked with his hands,
and would sit on the porch, rifle beside him.
I come from a grandmother who loved people,
and gave her grandchildren a place to stay in the summer months.
I come from “I trust you, that's why I limit the rules”,
but also “you have to be careful, not everyone has the best of intentions”.
I come from a religious upbringing that did not include church,
my father taught Sunday school in the comfort of our home.
I come from a father with twinkling, kind eyes and a weird sense of humor,
who taught me to read using signs on the streets every time we went for a drive.
I come from a father who tells silly stories, tall-tales with unbelievable endings,
and took in neighborhood children when they needed a home.
Where do you come from?
And how does it shape your life?
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