I am from the craft room,

From legos and fingerpainting.

I am from roller-skating around the driveway

(Tripping, falling, scraping my knee).

I am from climbing my favorite maple tree and jumping in a pile a leaves.

I am from winters full of snow,

From summers spent at the community pool and coming home to fresh watermelon.

I am from “you can’t leave the table until you finish your fish,”

And this little light of mine.

I am from warm winters by the fire,

Visiting relatives, and camping with the smell of DEET in the air.

From whispered nighttime prayers to summer reading challenges.

I am from these memories and moments lost to time,

Only alive in scrapbooks and crumbling CDs among VHS tapes.