I am from scented lip gloss,
from Disney movies and Barbies.
I am from the water.
(Quiet, peaceful,
It felt as if the sun placed it’s gentle kisses all over.)
I am from the hydrangea
the patch of baby breaths
I would play in.

I’m from the Tuesday night dinners and lemon ice box pie,
from Maw-Maw and Memme and Big Dog.
I’m from the hugs and kisses,
from “I love you so very much” and “come here babydoll.”
I’m from thanking God for food, family, and friends.

I’m from Metairie, Gentilly, Slidell, and New Orleans,
red beans and rice.
From the hospital where my baby cousins were brought into the world,
the dents in the floor from where Mom knocked over the christmas tree.

Photo albums overflowing with decades of memories.
I am from a house, not a home,
never staying in one place too long.