Maddie Walker

I am from Grandmother’s teacup, from Tide detergent, mismatched socks, and too many books.

I am from carpeted stairs that burned our knees and a creaking door that was painted but never fixed.

I am from a lightning-struck tree, harboring an orange cat and myself, and yellow daisies on the front porch.

I am from mugs filled with my father’s black coffee, my mother’s black tea, and my brother’s everything in between.

I am from pancakes on Sunday and sundaes for dinner.

I am from wagging tails and  a friend always curled at the end of my bed.

I am from eternally lost glasses and unpaired shoes.

I am from the Valley of the Sun, with food that burned our tongues like the sun that scorched our skin.

I am from perpetual PJ’s and lazy afternoons.

I am from closets filled to the brim with “memorabilia” and a two-car garage that fits one car.

I am from tight hugs and a circle of smiles.

I am from the passenger seat of a deep grey Jeep, one hand on the wheel and one in mine.

I am from the loudest laugh in the movie theater and the softest smile in a crowd.

I am from a family of collectors of knickknacks, cards, and canines.

I am from a sunshine journal overrun with thoughts and a pinboard overflowing with memories.  I’m a collector of moments.

Where I’m From
Arden Schraff

I am from blonde hair and green eyes.  From reading glasses, and Egyptian musk.

I am from Duke blue, from yells at the television, and weird nicknames.

I am from the howl of hounds and tufts of white hair.

I am from Harry Potter and blue frames perched on the tip of a nose.

I am from bikes and books.

I am from peanut butter and green apples.

I am from Gessner and Keating, from Fergus, Gemma, and Nick.

I am from “Stop yelling from across the house!” and “Mom! Arden won’t let me…”

I am from Adirondack chairs and work Madaket hats.

I am from hydrangeas and crumbs.

I am from the scar on my mother’s throat, from the deformed tip of my father’s middle finger.

I am from Archies comics and “this reminded me of you.”

I am from needlepoint and beads.

I am from a colonial establishment barely remembered by my sister and I.

I am from practical clothes and organic laundry detergent.

I am from 3 sisters with the same laugh and 3 brothers who keep their phone calls short.

I am from loud pancake house breakfast with the Kolbes and car rides with the Johnsons.

I am from my sister’s tears, both happy and sad.

I am from small holidays and crowded summer homes.

I am from tarot card readings and long phone calls.

I am from family swims to the point and plays in the woods.

I am from Game of Thrones on Sundays.

I am from leather hands and feet and the endearing nickname, “Bunny.”

I am from honey and pine.

I am from the casita and late night talks.

I am from a Founding colony, a Gilmore Girls town, and the Valley of the Sun.

I am from Polaroid’s on strings on walls and in purses.

I am from home.