I am from Vicks, and from poho oil on cotton balls for my earaches and a handkerchief around my neck for sore throats.
I am from the white picket fence by the road and the lilac bush with purple buds with a scent so sweet it hurts.

I am from 7:30 family breakfasts and ice cream two meals a day,
From Carla and Candy Grandpa and the surname Miller.

I am from because-I-said-so and ask-your-mother.
From “finish your plate” and “someday you’ll understand.”

I am from Christianity and Jesus loves me this I know.

I am from Iowa & Uzbekistan, from chocolate chip cookies and homemade pizza every Saturday night.
From the glasses on my grandma’s nose, her green crocheted purse that is now mine, and the spokes of her wheelchair spinning oh so slowly as she moved through the room.

I am from the cupboard in my parent’s bedroom, stashed with photos from long before I was born, photos of my parents’ happy smiles as they welcomed me into the world and proud tears as they gave me away to a man who vowed until death do us part.

I am from all of these and so much more.