I am...

Heather did this on her blog. She told me I should to it too and since I do anything she tells me... here it is. If you want to do it, the format is here.

I am from refrigerator boxes that can keep everyone amused for hours, from maytag and caputo’s

I am from the smell of something cooking in the kitchen, the sound of small paws on the hardwood floors and pots and pans clanking at dawn

I am from the cheap flowers that decorate our kitchen to the apple trees and tulips and evergreens that decorate our backyard

I am from the family BBQs and loud parties where everyone competes to be heard, from Francesco and Fortunata and Grandma Lucy

I am from true competitiveness, family importance, and catholic guilt.

From your face will stay like that and stop touching each other and silences where bad words were thought but not spoken

I am from saying the rosary and praying to Mary, standing up and sitting down when told to, rehearsing words I never knew the meaning of.

I’m from Chicago and Italy and England and Ireland, from pasta with every meal and grams’ homemade zugu

From the Italian grandfather who didn’t like to talk about his childhood and the father who isn’t Italian

I am from dusty bookshelves and dirty cabinets containing photo albums that have since been forgotten