I am from two homes
one, housing three people but 20 decibels above casual conversation
the other, holding six and 20 below

In the raucous house, I am from dancing with the stereo on full blast
and earning the title of “most responsible” out of my 8 cousins
which is shorthand for “babysitter”
In the house of tardiness I am from open invitation barbeques
and Auntie brings cake, then shoves my face in it
everyone brings stories (mostly debates), and laughter
and by the end of the night, we feed a patchwork quilt of people
and I don’t mind the warm, soapy water pruning my hands as I scrub greasy pans
In the wild home, we keep the salon clean, but hate when mom cuts our hair
we have the food run, Thanksgiving, memorial services
and mistaking Crown Royal for apple juice
there is military and Chicago pride
and a love for Marilyn Monroe, Lilo and Stitch, and Bon Jovi

In the reserved house, I am from still lakes and bonfires
and my sister and I working with dad, stopping at Culver’s
which we eat in the spacious conference room, and then play in empty cubicles
In the house of clacking keyboards I am from sitting in the sauna until it hurts to breathe
and racing to jump off the dock and swim to the opposite shore
everyone will bring stories (never debates), and laughter
and by the end of the night, we curl up in old chairs and assign sleeping arrangements
and I talk with my cousin until I see daylight peeking over the trees
In the tame home, we play acoustic music, and bake cookies
we have Sugarloaf, the Fourth of July, “Sisu”
and Auntie Jill in Arizona
there is nostalgia and longing
and a love for the U.P., Kid Rock, and pickle-flavored sunflower seeds

In both homes, I am from bringing a video camera with me to any place I wander
whether it is mundane as the grocery store or exciting as a sunny beach
and believing there is adventure in a rainy drive to the gas station
and looking at the glow in the dark stars stuck carefully to my ceiling
making a glorious constellation and binding everything together