I am from cigarette smoke,

from box dye and hand-me-down clothes.

I am from dog wood trees. 

(Bright white, glistening flowers, smelling bitter.)

I am from the small family kitchen,

full of laughter 

whose smell I still remember. 

I am from the children running in the backyard,

from swingset hinges squeaking. 

I am from the I know it best adults and the I know everything kids.

I’m from family we no longer talk to, the ones I still remember.

I’m from vegan chillie and squash, homemade potatoes and sweet tea.

From the chest full of old pictures, spilling with memories. 

I am from those moments –

Pictures taken before we grew –