Where I'm From

I am from chopsticks,

from rice bowls and the occasional fork.

I am from shoes in the foyer,

lined up along the wall

like children in time-out.

I am from the jungle that is my backyard,

the aloe vera plants

whose medicinal powers my father so heavily relies on to cure all.

I'm from the haven on the hill,

set apart from the ghettos that surround.

I'm from the retired

and the ready-to-be-retired,

from neighborhood watch and parking space thieves.

I'm from the Buddhist alter beside our piano,

a religion not my own

and barely my parents'.

I'm from Julio of Lolita's,

"Hola, amigos!" with every California burrito.

From city to seashore,

'burbs to blocks,

a mixing pot of settings and the people within them.

Photos at every turn upon crossing the threshold;

family portraits on the walls,

frames on the mantel,

a china cabinet documenting every vacation.

I am from every moment, every memory,

captured and stored behind glass.

I am from San Diego, from family, from home.