Where I’m From
Justin Schwind
I am from the Yard of the Month sign out front,
from Volvo station wagons and Skull chewing tobacco.
I am from a quaint one story home,
always under change,
clean, but dirty,
tuning in to the moans of mother dearest,
knowing it will never be enough.
I am from fresh cut St. Augustine grass,
Saturday mornings, long blades of green
shaved down to baby nubs,
ready to begin again.
I’m from family summers floating the Rio Frio,
and we work hard for what we earn.
From a strong willed mom
and an adventure seeking dad.
I’m from the ones who fight things out
and then don’t talk about them.
From Schwinds never quit
and be grateful you have food,
There are children starving in Africa.
I’m from never miss church on Sundays,
never skip Sunday School,
yet know no God
outside those walls.
I’m from Galveston Island,
proud of my third generation German roots.
From Grandma’s pecan pie
and Pop’s smoked barbecue.
From standing on the sidelines
of a Houston Oilers game with my dad,
both of us with cameras in hand,
shooting for the Alvin Sun.
From Guess Who at the kitchen table,
my sister Lindsay outsmarting us all,
again and again.
From the last full family photo
at Grandpa and Grandma Schwind’s
Church of Christ.
We cherished adventures over things,
each memento a memory,
a token of where we had been,
the laughter, the ache, the moving on.
Every piece mattered,
because every piece carried
the story of who we were
and who we were still becoming.
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