From The Heart

Where I'm From

I am from rings,

Two that are intricate and twisted with swirls and roses of a thorn,

From Lane cake that filled your stomach and made you crave more.

Where Jack the donkey came a five o'clock on the dot each morning of twisted, grueling heat.

I am from the place that has heat that would melt the ice cream in your hand five seconds flat

Dripping of that chocolate lane cake dripping, dripping, dripping down your hand and making you hurry to eat it.

I am from the place where the camellias grow with their vibrant pink color making you reach out,

And the place where black bears roam with mostly black and brown muzzles with the occasional white patch on their chest.

I am from a family who on every birthday has to make sure that someone gets a piece of cake in their face,

with that buttercream frosting with the occasional rose or flower.

You can't help but take the frosting and lick it because it's too good to waste but their laughter is their best on those celebratory days.

From Martin, who may look tough and terrifying, but he is like soft teddy bear, and Susan whose personality is that of a mama bear when it comes to her cubs.

I am from the family who is dysfunctional but protecting all the same, the ones who yell when they mean to talk.

From the idea that "If [you] held hands with a boy you'd get cooties," and when my first boyfriend came around the first words out were "Tommy, grab the shotgun."

I am from a group of Catholics which it ended with my great grandmother who was strict in her religion.

I am from Sicilian decent on my great great grandmother's side and Irish from the grandfather,

For the homemade tomato sauce and the delicious hot filling our stomachs

From the mom who let a raccoon into the house because she wasn't wearing her glasses thinking it was my yorkie terrier,

The black and grey raccoon looked nothing like our brown and black yorkie, the time my dad spilled root beer on me and I dumped orange soda in return not two minutes later on "accident".

I am from the place where picture of our drawings hang with more frames throughout the house. Over the couch there is my school pictures lie dormant. The gaps between my teeth in Kindergarten and the half smirk and glasses in my most recent pictures.

Where my brother decided to put his handprint onto the top of my door frame. Where the couch lies against the wall to the island sits waiting.

These pictures are worth more than any monetary valued things.