I am from Olay lotion,
From Chanel Chance and Chanel Blue.
I am from the old red bricks.
(sun-faded, memory filled,
they crumple to the touch.)
I am from the cactus flower
the Crepe Myrtle
whose white flowers snow down.

I’m from the Wednesdays at Granny’s and New Mexico sunsets,
from Audrey Ann and Aldea and Beverly Jane.
I’m from the extraordinarily extroverted
and the wild story tellers,
from don’t cry over spilled milk and Go Raiders!
I’m from plaid jumpers
And “On Eagles Wings.”

I’m from down da bayou (as my dad would say),
filè gumbo and a rich roux.
From the hallways my dad slept in,
the pale green leotard my mom would wear.

Buried in the hall closet, deep in those cardboard boxes,
spills out smiling faces and Christmas card perfection poses.
I am from the memories that were made before me, and the ones that will last until long after I am gone.