I Am From

I am from over the top fur hats and over characterized jewelry,
 from guitar strings and rhinestoned yoga pants screaming, "look at me!"
I am from a vine-ridden and camouflaged rambler peeking out from under the trees,
 from the smell of damp open windows during lightning storms and overgrown grass tipped with dew,
 from burning candles and vintage furniture concocting into its own incense.
I am from lavender and baby blue hydrangeas and vibrantly dyed tulips and feathers,
          the giant weeping willow across the pond and the pink budding tree outside my
          window,
          whose long gone limbs and secrets I remember
          as if they were my own.
I'm from constant sing-song sound and cackling laughter like a joyful witch read about in
          pleasant kid stories,
 from Frank Sinatra and cliche obnoxious top 40 radio,
 from electric vibrations and drum beats in the living room as a wake-up alarm on
          Saturday mornings
          along with routine brunch in the trendy parts of town.
I'm from roller coaster emotions dictating dynamics, whippy and sudden,
          and from stubbornness like honey grasping the countertop; in which scrubbing away with a wet
          cloth does no good.

I'm from "God is good" and "God is great"
          and "little bunny foo-foo hopping through the forest."
I'm from homemade hand-cut noodles, the original Grinch, and being swept up to place the angel
          atop the Christmas tree.
I'm from Minneapolis and the Scandinavian mutts,
          red-vine Twizzlers and almonds my mom can never seem to remember that I hate,
 from Anna falling in the green-layered
          mucky pond in the backyard,
          frizzy curls, big blue eyes,
          making forgiveness the only option,
          Betty Boop, Popeye and Olive, and old Bug's Bunny cartoons,
 traveling the county and making it across the world,
 only to end up again back in the same nook.