I am from the blotchy, red cheeks and scraped knees.
I am from the tulle and tiffany dresses from the Princesses of Disney World.
I am from the annual snow ball fights with my brother and sister.
I am from picking flowers and whistling grass.

I am from my thick, knotted hair; passed down for generations.
I am from the petty arguments I have with my mother about useless things. 
I am from the nights spent at my Grandma’s house for Italian, French, or Greek Night.
I am from rolling dice and shuffling cards with my competitive little sister.
I am from crowded Christmas church services and chanting the lyrics to each hymn.

I am from broken bones and chipped teeth.
I am from the clink of dog food falling into the bowl.
I am from mispronounced and misspelled words in French class.
I am from the Kim and Dean and Ava and Max.

I am from my blue eyes, turning grey as I age.
I am from the beeping of my alarm clock and the whip of my arm before I hit snooze.
I am from I can’t turning into I can
I am from the runs through my neighborhood, each house I pass fading into the same shape.
I am from the frayed flowers petals, falling out of dust coated photo albums, reminding me of my disappearing youth.