Where I'm From

I am from dusty ball gloves,
     from Wilson and Neosporin.
I am from the oak-trimmed windows,
     Cracked open, crisp breeze, white embroidered curtains,
     Painting the prairie grasses and barbed wire fence
I am from capturing silky white fuzzies,
     The cotton wood trees,
     Towering, shading, rattling.
I am from the loamy sand,
     Absorbing the sun's waves,
     Enveloping bare toes.
I am from daring adventures
     From climbing to weak branches
     From yelling down badger nests
     From teasing the bull
     From skating the brittle ice of the pond.

I am from slap jack and dumb blonde jokes,
     From traces of dark red hair and short stature.
I am from the ticking bomb of impatience, and
    From holding your own, having each others' backs,
    Good times and bad, chaos and calm waters.

From you're cruisin for a bruisin and
     You'll be in worse trouble at home.
I'm from Amen before meals,
      Behave in Sunday School or else.

I'm from the fjords of Scandinavia,
      From famine-struck Ireland,
      From the streets of Germany,
      From the settlers of a new nation.
From warmed lefse and Norwegian rice pudding,
      The Christmas time favorites.
From the pennies Grandpa shamefully picked off a gym floor
From the red-haired, red-faced boy Grandma spotted at that game.
From a first date photo posted to the fridge.

I am from country-kid adventures,
    Falling and learning from mistakes,
Falling back on the family
    Who raised me after taking their days
One adventure at a time.

Ha