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.
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.