Where I'm from

I am from late-night stargazing,
telescope on the porch.
From the smell of sweet hay in my friend's hayloft.
From frostbitten toes, and bright red noses.
I am from cold days spent on a snowboard,
from “So, you’re not goofy or regular, oh, you ride both.”
I am from stacks of snowboard stuff lying around.
I am from painful scorpions, that leave long bruises as reminders.

I am from fresh carrots and tomatoes picked from the garden.
From the smoky air around the wood-fired pizza oven.
I am from the smell of Old Spice, and lacquer from the shop when hugging my Dad.
From German phrases tossed at random into conversation,
confusing those around me when I say, “dunka,” the German word for thanks.
I am from fast bike rides, with the wind whipping through my hair.
From long FaceTime calls, with those who can’t make it from faraway places.
I am from “She’s 13 going on 20,” and “Are you ever going to stop growing?”
From huge family reunions, with seemingly more people appearing each time.
I am from flashlight tag on the beach,
from cold noses, and sandy feet.
From entertaining myself by making everything rhyme.

I am from ever-present mint lip balm, in the car, in my pocket, lying on the counter.
From the smell of Flovent and Albuterol.
I am from baking bread with Grandpa,
and learning how to cook other family recipes too.
From “You’ve always got your nose in a book,”
and shopping bags full of books for the library,
and from “Here come the Orvises” from the librarians.
I am from the salty, nostalgic smell of the ocean,
from the feeling of the gritty sand between my toes.

I am from family is first, always.
From naming every chicken, and loving them like family.
I am from Sunday morning breakfast.
I am from tripping over imaginary obstacles,
from long hugs, and Eskimo kisses. 
I am from most things are temporary, family is forever.