Where I'm From

Here's a guest post, a poem written by my granddaughter Maeve when she was still in Middle School. Now she is about to enter college where I think her observant eyes and writing skill should serve her well.

                  Where I‘m From

                            MHD

 

I’m from the scribbled drawings on the fridge

From the books in piles on the coffee table.

The feeling of their creased spines on my fingertips.

I’m from my grandmother’s kitchen

(Small, homey, it smelled like focaccia)

I am from the constellations,

The Moon,

Like a pearl in a black sea,

Lighting up the night,

I’m from ivory paper and fountain pens,

Their jet black ink dancing across the pages of my notebooks.

I’m from Elvera and Antoinette,

From the “I love you's".

From “Mangia” and “Salute”

I am from playing cards at the kitchen table,

Marking points on a stray notepad.

I’m from Ucci and Gardella,

From ripe cherry tomatoes and steaming chamomile tea

From the ship my great-great grandmother took from Serracapriola to New York

 I’m from the child she lost on the journey,

From the money she saved to get to America.

I am from the letters saved in a box beneath my bed.

Covered in nearly illegible handwriting I had to ask my mother to decipher.

I’m from the words of my relatives,

Whose stories helped me connect with my late family members.

I am from the spirits of my ancestors,

Who suffered for their children to live a better life.

I am from the good and the bad,

The ups and downs of living.

###