I am

I came from sisters and brothers older than I.
I come from loud dinners at a long table.
I come from noise. Crying, laughter, running, jumping, stomping, and screaming.
I come from sidewalks with chalk we drew and skin we scraped.
I came from a large green bus that brought me home for the first time.
I come from green. Always green. Trimming our house, our car, moms eyes, and four leaf clovers.
I come from bunk beds on which we carved our names.
From bruises, bikes, and salty tears.
I come from the streetlight that told me when to come home.
A mother who went back to college and inspired me. Who always read or sang me to sleep.
A dad whose hands calloused from endless hard work. Who always had a joke.
A Gramma who smiled, painted with bright colors, and prayed.
Sisters who brushed my hair and stood up for me to anyone.
Brothers whom I wrestled with and watched over me.
I come from hard work, literature, and movie nights. I come from baptisms and holy water, anointed and forgotten.
I come from love, joy, laughter, and cheers. I'll remember these things all through my years.