I am from the old, out of tune piano that sits in my living room, covered in picture frames
and a layer of dust.
I am from “Ich liebe dich,” and “Je t’aime,” and “Vous son mon petit fleur.”
I am from my grandfather’s nature-filled water-color paintings and my mother’s shining thimble
collection, covering the living room walls and lining my memory.
I am from the wide map of Ireland hung on the wall outside my bedroom door that shows the lineage of Ireland and represents the blood of my family.
I am from the worn, rusted wind chimes placed randomly throughout my house.
I am from my mom’s fanciful pincushions and my dad’s vast Star Trek collection.
I am from the towering, wild rose bush out front and the jar of old collars our cats have worn
out over the years.
I am from my mom’s tuna and macaroni ‘n cheese casserole to my sister’s flavorsome salmon and rice dish.
I am from the French couple living across the street that just had a baby to the Japanese restaurant that never fails to make or stomachs grumble with hunger in the evening.
I am from our dark red front door with the finger mark I accidentally formed in the paint
when it had been drying.
I am from the Irish family that always speaks their minds.
I am from the tan and red house that is set back a little behind the others.
I am Susan Peevy.
It's not the best poem I've ever written, that's for sure. I mean, I think I got a little lazy when I was piecing it together because I followed the basic outline of "I am, I am, I am..." that we were told to do. There were a couple people who broke out of that. I am proud and amazed by them. :)
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