I am from 219 Lakewood. Grandma. A laundry chute. Before Detroit was Detroit.
I am from the honeysuckle, the peacock.
I am from too many jokes and sparkly eyes, from Cieslak and Moroski and Wells.
I am from the quick tears and the easy laughter and the winning is everything.
From you're too good for that and someday you'll thank me.
I am from saris and bangles and the temple at 5 a.m. From don't love too much...it's all an illusion.
I’m from Los Angeles and Poland, microwaved baby pizzas made with english muffins and dahl.
From his days spent in airports handing out books, the shaved head, and the mother who wondered if she'd ever know her son. Then daughter.
I am from lost phone numbers and changes of address, unreturned calls, fading memories. From running and secrets. I am from escape.
Thanks to Mama Kat for sharing the inspirational template for this post