My son wrote this poem and shared it with me tonight. He warned me before reading it that I would cry. He was right...
Where I am From
I am from a place of long beaches and soft sand,
from never ending oceans in every direction.
I am from aromas of sizzling Croquetas and Papa.
From intense heat and cool breezes,
fresh cut grass and orange baseball fields.
I am from the front seat of an 83 mustang,
twelve hour drives and welcome signs every three hours.
From pencil marks on the door,
and rain drops falling outside my window.
I am from my grandmother’s living room,
fresh lavender and violets.
I am from beeps and dogs barking,
heavy traffic and anger.
I am from a place of freedom,
where I have only my freedom.
I am from towns like Gatlinburg, Tennessee,
Where fireworks, people, happiness and fun can be felt many new years later.
I am from massive pools and water parks,
From salsa music to Angus Young’s electric guitar.
I am from a cul-de-sac and pavement,
And my scarlet bicycle and a yellow fire hydrant.
I am from a broken boat lost at sea,
with hours of work and fiber glass.
The cuts and blood put in,
Along with the sanding and building.
I am from annoying Cuban restaurants,
with hundreds of customers.
From those long road trips with Elton John and Pearl Jam,
and only the night sky and a dark figure to keep me company.