I am from potpourri
From dog toys and bones
I am from the tantalizing scent of baking pumpkin pie
I am from the wildflowers
The oak whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own
I’m from football night and overflowing laundry hampers
From mom and dad
I’m from lazy Saturdays and grocery Sundays
And from two little dogs
And though I’m from screaming and shouting
And evenings spent crying in my room
I’m from a loving family
I’m from laughing and smiling and chatting on the couch
From my stories about relatives
Great-grandfathers who could crush apples and uncles who rescued drowning horses
Intense blue and calm hazel eyes
I’m from under the blankets of my comfortable bed
I’m from home