I Come From

I come from a home
with many trees:
Palm, bottlebrush, lemon,
Peach, plum and nectarine.
Even apple, almond and orange.
My favorite were the two avocado trees
from which many guacamoles were made.
My hate was for the fig tree
with all its gross overripe fruit
littering the ground below.
The orange tree was tall.
Always beckoning us to sample its sweetofferings.
I can still smell the orange blossoms.

I come from a home
with a long staircase,
Two kitchens and a basement.
Two families in one house.
One brother and five cousins
were my built-in playmates.
Hide-n-seek was our game of choice
with the pantry being the best hiding spot.
Where else could we hide and sneak treats?
Sometimes we were banished outside.
The lawn was our battleground,
the hose our weapon.
I can still feel the wet grass beneath my feet.

I come from a home
with old, slanting ceilings
And multicolored shag carpeting,
Eerie sounds and secret passageways.
During the day, the house was cheery.
At night, I clutched my blanket tight
I would lay awake
listening and looking.
And was witness to oddities
Things that most adults wouldn't believe.
Floating dots parading around my head
Dancing to entertain and extinguish the fears.
I can still see the haunting images.

I come from the home my mother grew up in.