i am from the top of a white bunkbed adorned with glittery stickers
from down couches and impractical glass cutting boards
i am from the small olive-green house that sits in the middle of an evergrowing fleet of mansions
cluttered, charming, soft.
i am from japanese maple trees,
sitting by the empty chicken coop
i'm from the sit-down family dinners and the taking forever to finally leave the house
from don't put your elbows on the table to no more questions before 9 am
i'm from sunday school where i would always sneak an extra communion wafer, but never the grape juice
i'm from jiangxi china, but im too young to remember what it was like
homemade midwestern casseroles, and banana bread without walnuts
from the grandparents who i would hardly see because they lived in colorado
the parents who each had 3 siblings
los angeles, valley village, studio city
i'll move forwards, but not quite up? it feels insurmountable sometimes