Where I'm from

I am from a short street called Y-Way
That ends in the woods and moss covered rocks.
I am from the sweet gum tree we planted
And the towering old pine we cut down.
After that the landscape changed.
I am from pine tar soap and vinegar rinse
Because shampoo was considered a luxury.
I am from macaroni and cheese with catsup,
From homemade burgers, spaghetti and enchiladas.
We brought our books to the dinner table and read while we ate.
I am from Luther’s Small Catechism and
“What does this mean?”
From learning to sight read the alto line of Bach’s hymns
While my dad sang bass.
I am from the afternoon storm swept mesa of Albuquerque
And the windblown grass of Bone Hill above Greatgrandma Jensine’s farm
In Colome, South Dakota
I’m from hardworking farmer and teacher stock.
And from the Musical Grays who played for the silent movies.
I am from summer travels to Indiana and back.
Hot summer nights with fireflies and chiggers.
Now I’m from here.
Cloudy windy wet fresh raw green Oregon
And where will my children say they are from?