I am from a cardboard pencil box and paste, from Fab Detergent and Pall Mall Cigarettes.

I am from Nanny’s nativity with a red light. I am from a large kitchen table.

   From laughter, savory spaghetti, enough to feed the neighbors.

I am from the gardenia, the weeping willow whose branches dangled in the pool.

I am from unwrapping gifts on Christmas Eve, Large hands from number IV.

  From Winnie Mae and Lilian Jane.

From laughing out loud in movie theatres, to impromptu dancing in the den.

   From 1st Corinthians 13, and “We’d like you to name your brother.”

I am from doing it right the first time, from I love you no matter what. 

I’m from Austin and all things Texan, from queso flameado and egg nog.

I’m from the closet where she sewed clothes on a Singer,

   And the metal table where she made jelly from her pear tree.

I am from a Radio City Rockette and a West Point Cadet.

The first of four, I am from square black and white photos,

The backyard playhouse our daddy built,

   Metal toy jacks and an owl hooked rug, a music box, written notes,

And now my beautiful wedding ring

   And my own kids’ art that I would rescue from a fire.