Pieces of Me

Kylie Shipp

I am from the yellowing pages of old books.

I am from Acrylic paints and watercolor.

I am from the flour-covered kitchen counters.

White, powdery, coating our skin while we rolled out cookies

I am from the lilac bushes that surround my house.

Pink, white, and lavender, their sweet perfume engulfed me every summer.

I am from wavy brown hair and terrible eyesight.

I am from the many Jasons, Katies, and Aries.  

I’m from the long arguments, even when you know you’re wrong, and rambling stories that don’t make sense.

I am from my dad’s opinion that, “Second is just first loser” and my mom saying, “It’s ok not to be perfect”.

I am from Sundays where we missed church in order to attend competitions.

I am from Italy and the Netherlands, spread out across Iowa.

I am from lasagna, saucijsjes, and cheesecake for every holiday.

I am from the time my brother cracked his head on the radiator,

And my mother´s brush with death due to her throat swelling shut.

In various closets and cabinets, my life lays trapped in pictures and mementos.

Reminding us of the good times, the bad times, and most of all, the love we have for each other.