I am from the smell of coffee in the morning
A pot of dolmas on the stove
Delicious memories of pilaf and choreg, “dubda” and yalanchi
I am from the sounds of music throughout the day
Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, Gershwin, jazz, rock
Hands freezing while practicing
Depression-era parents, both generous and thrifty, even inventive
One night a bat joined the session
It was right after the recital
You were walking the dog, I think
When you returned, a tennis racket did the trick
There was harmony and discord
Blasting the Metropolitan opera was OK, but not AC/DC
Generation gap — potato, po-tah-to?
Food had its staying power
But it was poetry and music that never failed
They always made you smile, moved you always
They’re the connective tissue between generations, cultures, people
They’re where I’m from.
Despite the challenges,
What a wonderful world you brought me into
Where I’m From (Erica) © 2024 by Erica Rowell is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0 
2 thoughts on “Where I’m From (Erica)”
Your poem is vibrant and filled with elements from your life. I particularly enjoyed the lines where you expressed, “I am from the smell of coffee” and “I am from the sounds of music.” These phrases exhibit a unique and imaginative perspective on your personal history, highlighting how these experiences have shaped your identity.
I LOVE the way you switch from first person to second. This feels so right on to me, the experience of looking at one’s life over time; the “I” becomes the “you” becomes “her/him/them” and back again. (Also: that table of food you lay out for us. Delightful.)