I’m from my mother, my father. From my sister and brother, my cats and dogs, family chickens and a third grade teacher. From the smell of burning incense and it’s silky smoke. From the bed where I lay when it’s all too much, or the vineyard with grapes and vines. The pool; a refuge from summer heat. And the endless destinations my mind flies me to as the moon rises. From countless “you’re killing me, Smalls” and reminders to “be nice.” From “I can’t put my arms down” and many others. From Christmas Story to talk of the missing “4th Child”. From meatless chili, taco nights, pancakes and casserole. From sausage and burgers fresh from the grill. From chili powder, garlic, and melted cheeses. From silly mistakes you’ll not be allowed to forget, like a misspelled Ikea or salty brownies. From movies on Friday nights or songs in the car. From scaring the cats or gathering eggs from the coop. From the Wii that lasted years, and the many games of bowling, baseball, and tennis it endured. From Kevin Hart and Adam Sandler, endless knitted sweaters and hats, from two moody teenagers and an unofficial adoption. From good natured teases, and dirty jokes. From wine tasting and beer (I’m no fan of either), and endless support. Endless love.
