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I am from baking,

From Christmas cookies
to sweet apple pie,

I am from the pool in the backyard.

(warm or cold with the taste of chlorine)

I am from the huge sandbox in my backyard

Sand stuck between my toes,

Follow my trail through the back door.

I am from my Papa’s secret salad and Christmas Eve.

I am from Victor and Betty

I am from “got you last” and crashy bashy,

From “I get the front seat” to “no, you’re the youngest.”

I am from turkey in a bag,

Golden, moist and perfect.

I am from “you’re snoring too loud”

From “you’ll always be the baby,”

I am from the youngest of 3 boys.

I am in the old kitchen by the oven I used to bake.

I am from “what’s that smell?”

To “the food’s not ready yet,”

I am from homemade meals,

From fights over the last piece and “mom, what’s to eat?”

In my front yard-

Where all my memories come back,

Everything was simple when I sat on this rock.

I had to worry about getting home when the street lights turned on.