I am from crock pots filled with roasts, stews, and Sloppy Joe,
from Wells Street Cooking Magazine and Sunset Hill Stoneware.
I am from carpet ball tables; I reigned king over
(loud, competitive,
it looked like anarchy but felt like home.)
I am from the Big Oak Tree,
The lilac bush
Then tall branches shook flower petals to crown my head.
I’m from the communion and peppermints,
And eyeglasses.
From Logan and Garett,
And Uncle Mike.
I’m from the bad jokes
and 10 minutes of out-of-key Happy Birthday songs.

From Saddle up Monkey Butts
And There’s No Crying in Baseball.
I’m from Reese’s in plastic easter eggs
And peas and gravy.
I’m from Fort Wayne and Marlene & Butch,
Fried bread and Klondike ice cream sandwiches.
From the Giant’s graves and water trolls on the way to gramma’s
house,
the dead deer in Laura’s biology class.
I am from childhood and teenage years
And the adulthood I’m coming to dread.