I am from the smell of the pine trees
and the sound of robins singing in the morning
From the long swims in the lake and afternoon playtimes
I am from the red number nine shop,
where every allowance was spent
From the loud and joyful Christmases
and road trips that were loved, in spite of car sickness.
I am from the birthday parties nearly every month
From the cozy power cuts and board games played
I am from the irritating “Don’t use my toy”
and the early lessons on sharing
And of course, the pizza every Saturday.
I am from the foot in the bike wheel
And the head split on the hill
I am from the getting into trouble from sibling squabbles
and the chewing gum in my hair
I am from the stories told, and listened to eagerly.
I am from the loving hearts of the ones who gave me life
And the “Count your blessings, and remember the needy”
I am from the feeling of my mother’s belly kicking,
and the relief of no longer being the baby
I am from the large backyard that gave the right to live freely.