I Am From...

I am from my mother’s garden
Filled with a rainbow of colors
With the crooked white arbor
Over-looking the pebble clad path.

I’m from the cool waters of
Richardson Lake at South Arm Campground,
Where there are more trees than people
And where my Grandfather’s boat
Pulls Jake and I on the racing tube
With a yellow rope –
From the paths through the eerie woods,
Up to the “Magic Log” that today
Will be a base camp for
Our game of manhunt.

I am from the room at the
Top of the stairs with the eight foot
Lavender walls and a cloudy ceiling –
From the welcoming white home on
Fairview Avenue set back three feet
From the road with the two humungous
Red Japanese Maples and an American flag
Waving proudly in the breeze.

I am from the old football field
At the top of Hog Hill with the
Worn dirt patch in the middle
Where the Saint Joseph's JV Soccer team practices.

I'm from the family of musicians and scientists.
The family of believers and farmers who can't
Seem to find common gorund.

I'm form the mortifying tan couch
In the room with the burgandy walls
Where I watched the Dallas Cowboys race to vitory -
From where I have grown to become a daddy's girl
And a diehard Dallas fan -
From where I slept as an infant
In the arms of my father.