I am from fishing poles,
From Dodge and Ugly Stik.
I am from the tall staircases that twisted down into the kitchen.
(Tanned, never fully clean,
They were the best for riding down in laundry baskets.)
I am from the orange tree
the pineapple trees
always ripe with sweet smells of fruits.
I am from camping and bad eyesight,
from Mary and Carl.
I'm from the special birthday dinners
and annoying each other constantly.
From I don't think you like ice-cream. and Nope, they're your kids today.
I'm from living in a Christian believing home
yet never believing it myself.
I'm from Florida and laborers,
fish from the grill and homemade Mac N' Cheese.
From the scissors scarring my chin during a fussy haircut,
the icicle falling upon my sisters eye.
Shelves filled with thick, heavy,
and very loved photo albums.
Filled with the lost but not forgotten memories,
Displaying things I never can recall from my mind
showing endlessly throughout the yellow binders.
Holding
Onto what we used to have while it's presently gone.