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I Am From pt1
I was born and raised in my house, which isn’t home.
At heart, I am from the orange brick house in Westridge Farms
Where I never even lived
There, the pawprints I stamped on the driveway may have long since washed away
But I still left my mark
Even if it was just in the eyes of the horses that watched me walk the gray, cracked road.
I am from the frozen breakfasts we thought were homemade
And still loved all the same
I am from pancakes mangled by the state-of-Nebraska, star, and heart cookie cutters
And the orange juice I drank from a sippy cup long after it was appropriate
Because where I’m from, there was no getting old
There were only butterfly-shaped cookies and Sesame Street volumes.
There was only spending hours outside making pottery out of mud.
There was only picking aronia berries and pursing my lips at the bitter taste before feeding them all to the birds.
My love of cats sparked from the strays I would name and call my own.
I was sculpted by the way the sun shined through the shades in the living room, making it impossible to see the cartoons that always played in the morning.
I am from the uncomfortable metal chairs resting on scorched concrete
Where we sat watching colors explode over the Nebraska sky every fourth of July.
I am from the old picket fence i would climb over
To watch the sun set over the cornfield.
I am from the pine trees that raised me.
The one in Gretna that hid me,
The one in Waverly that sheltered me,
And the one here in my hometown
That put me on top of the world.
I am from two weeks of school
And dancing around the living room
Followed by months of patio visits six feet apart
And spontaneous “I love you” cards in the mail,
Shipped to the orange brick house in Westridge Farms.
I am from 24 and the blacklist
After family dinners every night.
And the only people who made my own house feel like home.
I am from playing flashlight tag and hide and seek
While running around barefoot because I refused to put on shoes.
I am from the family that I found without needing to look,
And the days we spent taking risks, riding bikes, and climbing trees until the sun went down.
Copyright ©
Brooke Zerbs
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