I am from pretending,
From costumes and home-made plays.
I am from rainy-day’s forts,
From the board games and coloring books inside.
I am from the kitchen cabinets slamming shut,
From helping my mom dry dishes and eating those cookies.

I am from playing Steamrollers in my mother’s bed,
From getting squished by my sister because I was so small.
I am from trying to avoid baths and running outside naked,
From scaring my mother half to death.
I am from falling asleep in my parents’ bed,
From getting carried to my own and tucked in tight.

I am from old video games,
From watching my mom play them when I was too sick to move.
I am from her tender love and care,
The kind that only a mother could provide.

I am from these frozen moments in time,
These moments of my life.
They never really leave our thoughts or us.
Instead, they continue on as life itself.