I am from Seattle
Not the city
or the public market postcards
But from bitter coffee
three-fourths milk
From days on the verge of tears
with clouds that gather like eyebrows
I am from the backseat
and big hills
From the every day
From the monotony
From the little gray boxes
some painted yellow

I am from kids
Criss crossing the place
leaving one home for another
From dusty driveways
The valley and mountain
of our neighborhood
From afternoon and after school
I am from slamming the door
And too many memories
that are too happy
From every single day
and every single night
From growing up together
but growing old alone

I am from a family
Full of ordinary eccentrics
From the obsessive minds
of Aunts and Uncles
From a grandma
who melted the ice cream
and dissolved the tablets
From everyone and their lives divided
from adding together the pieces
and being scared
From seething and drinking
and laughing uncontrollably
our shoulders shaking
From dividing myself
so they cannot add me up

I am from families
where blood runs deep

I am from homes
where the fire is lit

And I am from a place
where gray is the warmest color