I am from...

I am from blankets and macaroni, from Pendleton and Velveeta.

I am from the only house in the 'hood with a brick laid courtyard and no backyard fence, a carpenter's house of dreams built to give a vacation-like feel when you walk in. Leaves and branches thrusting out of solid trunks. A dense copse on the city's edge. A lake which was a pond which was a holding tank for runoff. No fishing.  The broken spillway that ripped my toenail clean off one summer afternoon. Climbing on the garage roof to watch the sunsets, hanging out on the driveway late at night...the concrete rough and warm from the summer day into night.

But I am also from a one story, 1960s brick home built for the price of a washer and dryer today. I am from a wood paneled great room with avocado fridge and stove. I am from the front room that was only for "special" and that "special" was me painting pictures on a card table. Comfortable, placid...my second home a haven from having to share.

I am from the red dirt road,  the horizon ahead jammed with Dad's classic rock station turned loud at the good parts. From a beat-up truck to plush sedans, I am from my dad's economic status.

I am from beans and cornbread and wide throated laughter, from Grandmother Susan and Momma and Modean.

I am from the self-narration of daily life and knowing everything is the key to life.

From good lips and you can be anything you want to be.

I am from Methodists, Episcopals, Judaism and AA. I am from the axiom of choice and I can be anything I want to be.

I’m from Oklahoma, 16th generation American, eating that pumpkin pie and holiday gravy. I'm from the capital city but also on every other weekend from the county seat of Pontotoc, where an Innocent Man was brought into the national spotlight.

From the conjugations of Latin verbs at the kitchen's dinner table, the evenings under the metal folding chairs along the wall of a smoky room (keep coming back, it works!), and the booth at Braum's eating an ice cream scoop, waiting to be picked up.

I am from picture frames in the 1960s hallway, picture frames on the 1960s couch's side table. I am from the compilation of a merging and diverging of lives, documented and put into suitcases.

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So y'all know what this is probably, but if you don't it's a meme/outline poem about childhood: "I am from..."  that a lot of you were doing about a month ago. I decided to finally finish mine.