I am from milk and corn flakes without sugar.
I am from the condo under the stair, the eighth floor apartment and too many years in that old house on the hill.
I am from grass behind chains and sand on the beach. I am roses growing in pots and the trees that nature felled.
I am from Louisa May Alcott and The Lonely Doll. I am from loved ones who have died too young.
I am from violence and heart wrenching loss. From wanting and fear of want and waiting for the worst.
I am amazing and lazy and overwhelmed into lethargy by choices. I sing Que Sera and wonder if it is true while agreeing and hoping not.
I am a Jewish girl from Brooklyn, a Minnesota mother, a woman alone in the universe. From tragic grandparents and portraits of Jesse and Fay tucked away on a shelf, hidden from sight, stabbing the heart.