I am from basketballs; from Nintendo items and paint splatters.
I am from, the red brick house near the woods with the smell of beef stew coming from the kitchen.
I am from the cedar trees.
The pomegranate tree whose fruits and leaves long gone broken down adding memories into the dirt.
I am from potato pancakes and dancing under the Zilker tree on the cold winter nights of December,
from Robyn and Cathy.
I’m from Yiddish words, Deckfest, and from waffles on Sunday morning.
I’m from World War 2 stories and my moms stories of her childhood in New York and the Throw it Out the Window song.
I’m from Passover meals.
I’m from Austin “The Live Music Capital of the World” and Russian and Austrian ancestry.
From my great grandfather abandoning his own family coming to America.
I’m from the plates of my brothers birthday parties lining the wall.
I am from my beautiful home.