Where I'm From

I am from cardboard boxes
and shipping crates.
From United States Postage,
and styrofoam packaging.

I am from empty homes
that new beginnings
filled with promise
and empty homes
filled with nostalgia
which reverberates the excitement
or the sorrow
within them.

I am from the vines
that latch to the dormers of a house
by nature,
never letting go
until pried off.

I am from packing out early
and "camping" in an empty house.
From waiting to see what comes next
and needing the patience
to wait for the answers.

I am from my mother's expectations
and my father's encouragement.

From Dad's
"Just do your best and that's good enough,"
and Mom's
"Good enough
is never
good enough."

I am from Sunday school
and saved first communion mementos.

I'm from El Salvador,
Cuba and Spain.
From stories about my grandfather housing earthquake victims
and my grandmother starting a new life at zero
and starting again after a house fire.

I am from learning to ride a bike
in an embassy parking lot.
From teaching Miranda to swim
on hot summer days.
From learning Math techniques from my mother.

I am from dusty picture frames,
childhood achievement certificates,
preserved birthday cards
and scrapbooks mom no longer has time to make.

Roots that hold,
a trunk that stands tall,
branches that reach longingly to the sky.
A tree,
that still and strong,
will stand the test of time.