All of These

Summer chalk-dust, smeared on the cool, morning patio,

winter cookies, baked to the tune of "The Christmas Song,"

spring walks, barefoot in the gentle, dewy grass,

and autumn jackets, covered in remnants of rusty leaf piles:

I am made of these.

The August week my grandpa landed in the hospital,

the Christmas mornings my dad spent at the station,

the May afternoon we were asked to leave,

and the November breeze that moved us away:

I am made of these.

Flashlights in books past bedtime,

bright sun shining through our treehouse door,

toys scattered on the carpet after a full day,

and limestone fossils found in the alley:

I am made of these.

The passion of a mother teaching her craft,

the love of a father playing Candy Land,

the trust of sisters huddled on the Saturday morning couch,

and the loyalty of brothers with their airsoft pistols;

I am made of all of these.