"Where I'm From" by Calvin Wintertown

I am from Skip-It’s and track spikes

From pine needles and Glade Plug-ins

I am from the misty breeze of morning fog

Car exhaust and humid sweat

I am from the spans of wild blackberries we picked in Augusts passed

The overgrown mint hat breeches the windowsill box

I’m from Saturday cook-outs of chicken and corn and consecutive nights of “dinner for one”

From knuckle head brothers and 10 to 8 parents

I’m from remotes in the fridge and machine washed “dry clean only”

And from unexpected treasures under the sofa

I’m from “Go where your passions take you” and “Patience is a virtue”

And “you can’t take care of others without caring for yourself first”

I’m from nights by the fireplace with only an unwilling kitty companion

I’m from Bothell and Fairfax and all corners of the globe

Curry that warms the heart like love and Popeye’s chicken with white rice and soy

From that time we left the pine and settled in the city

My brothers too old for rides on the swing, waved us away as we set off

The swing hung vacantly off the maple tree and the trails in the woods were left undisturbed

With no more tiny feet to turn the soil and fallen leaves

From an emerald frame to stale picket fencing

Home is where the heart lies with misty mornings, pine trees, and a family inseparable.