I am from a man I hardly remember
With a half stick of gum he'd holler the question
"How many girls are there in this house?"
And we would come running so that he could count

I am from wash baskets turned into boats
Magical potions like Root Beer Floats
A sweet foamy liquid we'd anxiously drink
To turn into gypsies and monsters and queens

I am from walking around in new slippers
Getting used to a smell that I'll always remember
Peeling down yards upon yards of wet paper
The slippery slime dried to chalk on my fingers

I am from mountain tops named for good stories
Fruit roll up chomping and bouldering glories
Trees and blue skies on an endless expanse
Changing appearance as the sun and clouds dance

I am from coffee breath whispering in church
Leftover lunch Sundays and toast that was burnt
Omelets that fry on a pan of brown butter
And taking a sip from the drink of my father

I am from biting my nails in 5th grade
To bitting my lip and not knowing my age
I am from not knowing just who I am
But I am and I am and I am...