I’m from childhood marbles, cricket games, and comic books.
I am from the cozy, snug cabin, nestled among towering pines,
with walls painted in soothing blues and warm yellows,
where the crackling fireplace sends its gentle warmth.
I am from the fragrant roses that bloom by the fence,
their petals carrying whispers of summer’s embrace,
and the oak tree with its sturdy branches,
a playground for imagination and laughter.
I am from Friday prayer and Afternoon,
and the determination that runs in our veins,
from my father’s unwavering patience,
and my grandmother’s loving embrace.
I am from a family that shares meals around the table,
and the knack for finding humor in every moment.
From “Always be curious,” a mantra woven into my youth,
and “Kindness matters,” a lesson that lingers on.
I am from a world where spirituality is felt in nature’s embrace,
where the rustle of leaves becomes a hymn.
Rooted in the bustling streets of Dhaka, Bangladesh,
where the aroma of spices and sizzling street food fills the air.
From the tales of my great grandparents’ resilience,
and the flavors of biryani and samosas,
the tastes of generations merging in every bite.
From the tale of my mother’s adventurous spirit,
crossing oceans for a new beginning,
my grandfather’s tales of wartime courage,
and my aunt’s infectious laughter,
stories preserved in albums, cherished, and worn.
I’m from the island of Chittagong, Bangladesh,
where the river’s rhythm sings a lullaby,
and the heart of a close-knit family beats in unity.
