I am from remote controllers,
from Xbox and Playstation.
I am from the country prairie style home,
from the wild outdoors and the obnoxious woods.
I am from the top of a lushes grassy hill,
from the majestic rows of flowers and the ancient Oak.

I am from pounds of mashed potatoes and sarcasm,
from the Bednarskis and Snyders and Dettmenns.
I am from the hiding a pickle and the unknown gifts under the tree,
from being told sharks live in pools after dusk and always being “it” in tag.
I am from unfair games and fighting,
from the poor ideas and the reuniting of family.

I am from the Bible and small amounts of church dwelling,
from religiously obsessed grandparents and odd parenting.
I am from multiple houses at once and family rivalries,
from the call to the forgotten relatives.
I am from the holidays spent with multiple families,
from pounds of mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce on a pedestal.

I am from tragedies and uprisings and decaying photo albums from the basement,
from memorials dedicated to our family heroes and our sympathetic nature.
I am from the getting lost  inconveniently and the forgetting of vital information,
from needing a buddy system at stores and forgetting the car.
I am from the families that matter and the exotic surroundings,
from the video gamers and the elderly oak where I like to call home.