I am from licorice toffees, violet mints, Turkish delight
I am from rallies against nuclear weapons, a prayer circle remembering John Lennon, a life chain.
I am from the aloe vera, the eucalyptus, the Scotch broom, the blackberry, the dogwood, the primrose, the poppy, the palm
I am from reading the same book again and playing a play and giving to new immigrants from Howie, Howard and Hattie.
I am from loud singing and sitting in the front row.
From "it will be in the last place you look for it," "if you have nothing to do, don't do it here," and "offer it up."
I'm from California & England & Czech & Germany & Romania, enjoying tacos, trifles, cabbage, garlic, greens
I'm from the flute player, the advocate, the mother, the searcher, the sock-monkey-maker, the sometime quilter & crocheter, the sensitive extrovert, the Californian
I'm from the surfer, the warehouse man-turned historian, the activist, the father, the woodworker, the talkative introvert, the New Yorker
From the green jello salad with cottage cheese and grated carrots, the wheelchair, the smile, the singing voice
From the blackberry pie, from Little House (the book, not the series), from ragdolls made before cancer took her
From the Anglophile, from his movies that crop up on television in far places, dubbing him into Slovak
From a Japanese garden, from the diabetes that limited him to one glass of wine, from his mild distaste of the Church and possible return
I am from the Quakers- singing "Animal Crackers," from the Episcopalians- not quite singing a solo in children's choir, from the Catholics- singing "On Eagle's Wings," then "Salve Regina," then "O, Maicuta Sfanta."
I am from heaven- as everyone is.