I am from castle doors leading to a childhood of love,
from the front steps of my grandmother’s aged and creaking house.
I am from June trips to the library and community pool,
from “don’t swim in the deep end” and “don’t forget to put on sunscreen.”
I am from slides and swing sets at Mather Heights park,
from the pages I’ve turned of the mystery books I’ve devoured.
I am from the old Elvis tunes I sang in a black Volkswagen Beetle,
from rock ‘n roll shows with my dad and sturdy drum sets.
I am from hectic trips to Family Dollar,
from the squeak of dogs scurrying around in my grandmother’s backyard.
I am from soup drives at Grace Lutheran church,
from bouncy balls and yoyo’s and trampolines.
I am from the stitches on my thumb when I made dinner,
from the time I visited New Orleans and had my palm read and she saw success and love.
I am from salty oceans and trips to see Sandy,
from the first time I tasted the city of New York and fell in love.
I am from the castle doors that lead to a childhood filled with love,
But most importantly, I’m happily from a kingdom
where my childhood never died.