I am from under the rug
where secrets are kept.
I am from matching church dresses and white frilly fold over socks.
from spearmint gum in Sunday morning pews.
promising to keep quiet.
I am from both sides at the battle of the Alamo.
William B. Travis. and Santa Anna.
and tamales on Christmas eve.
I am from “¡Andale!” and “¡dame tu mano!”
the smell of fried chicken and peach cobbler.
oh. and fresh tortillas. with menudo.
I am from hiding in cornfields.
coyotes howling in the night.
I am from hide and seek in the dark.
I am from the lake.
fishing trips with Poppy and soggy sandwiches from Nana.
from coffee ice cream and “The Waltons” with Ninny.
I am from bike rides at the state park.
fireworks every fourth of july.
…until where I am from shattered.
I am from the land of leaving.
from “your room is never clean” and “the house is always a wreck”
I am from one house. then another.
oh wait…one more.
I am from overnight bags.
from expected to be so many places but never belonging in one.
I am from divorce and remarriage and divorce.
from “stop being so selfish” – “the past is in the past. doesn’t matter.”
I am from a broken heart.
I am from living.
from “I should not be alive.”
I am from horrible things done to me
and I am from doing horrible things.
I am from an age of war.
I am from an army town where all of the aftermath seems to double in weight.
and Jesus meeting me in the middle of it all.
I am from dysfunction and despair
from lies and secrets.
from the way things shouldn’t have been.
I am from second chances.
from “just try one more time, Alison.”
I am from hope.