I am from…

I am from cornfields,

from the smell of manure and the buzz of deer flies.

I am from the corn in the woods for the bucks and the doe.

(Yellow, tempting

it attracts our forest neighbors.)

I am from gravel driveways and roads

that city people complain are too bumpy and dirty

but I know as home.

I’m from bananas in milk and books

that my mother reads in her chair

I’m from the discipline

from the we-don’t-do-that’s,

from how-do-ya-dare and good grief.

I’m from the Jesus loves you

no matter what you do

and the Bible with my name on it from Sunday School.

I’m from Herman Miller and Land of Food

office furniture and countless pots of coffee.

From the shuffle of my dad’s feet in the hallway

the way my mom opens the shades in the morning

to encourage my sleep deprived body out of bed.

In my house there was a family

laughing at each other’s jokes,

as cast of a sitcom family

to fill my memories.

I am from those memories-

exaggerated beyond recognition-

told over and over by a family without hugs.