I'm from garden hoses,
from Sun and Earth and patchouli.
I'm from sunny afternoons on the front porch
identifying soft bird calls
and relocating ants to the sophisticated homes I built.
I'm from lilacs and wood sorrel
whose green leaves tasted like sweet tarts.

I'm from Yiddish lullabies and blintzes
from Barukh ata Adonai
and nine lit candles in the Chanukia.
I’m from The Beatles and Bob Dylan played on old turntables.
from "Here comes the sun”
and "Everybody’s got something to hide except me and my monkey…”
From piano lessons since age six
from a Cappella and blended voices
I’m from melody, harmony, and dissonance.

I'm from rolling hills and breathtaking mountains
rice pudding and number pancakes with too much syrup
from Grandpa's bad jokes
(No one can help chuckling slightly)
and Mom's off-key singing that constantly filled the house.

I'm from the wooden drawer in the living room
filled to the brim with old family photos
grins etched on old faces,
laughter pouring out of the creases.
I'm from these memories
snapped in precious moments
the essence of family.