Where I’m From

I am from a cushion of a forest green love seat,

From Amazon and the Special K.

I am from the small homey mansion of my mother’s

(overflowing with cakes, cat fur, and the smell of home)

To my old and creaky dwelling of my father’s

(ripped wallpaper (thanks, sis) and a rambunctious set of kids.

It smells like cooked rice).

I’m from the hydrangea macrophylla,

The Japanese shrub

That appears to be a flower cloud of blues, purples, and pink.

I’m from the freshly baked dinner rolls and the pitch black hairs

From Nemo and Lynn and Piwi.

I’m from the constant worrying and the dreadful side-picking.

From “Are you mad at me?” and “Don’t let that food go to waste!”

I’m from He who is forever graceful,

The loving father who will do anything for us.

I’m from the rice fields and orphan-filled villages,

The spring rolls made with rice paper and the delicious bun cha.

-MTO