I am from my old bunkbed

from oversized stuffed animals and homemade pillow forts.

I am from the back door near the driveway, because we never used the front door.

I am from the rose bush behind our white-colored house.

The oak tree whose long limbs I remember as if they were my own.

I'm from the home-made bread on Christmas and crooked smiled from mom and dad.

I'm from large family dinners and praying before every meal

and from long eight-hour car rides.

I'm from "always do what I tell you" and "you're more fortunate than I was at your age"

I'm from camping in the living room with my brother.

I'm from Queens and Brazil and arroz com feijoada.

From going to the park with my grandma and hearing stories about her childhood,

from family portraits on the walls that constantly remind me of my younger years.