Inspiration via Finn.
I am from paper plates and newspapers, from Turkey Hill Ice Cream and cans of Pepsi.
I am from the white, bright, always smells like a cigarette and perfume.
I am from the eucalyptus, the sun creeping through watery windows, the wreath on the door, all seasons.
I am from Christmas morning hotel breakfasts and wet eyes from Mom and Babe, and the Gormley's and the Bichetti's.
I am from loud, loud laughter and I am from addiction.
From catching a cold with a wet head of hair and catching a cold from wearing coats indoors.
I am from crucifixes over the doorways and Mass on all holidays and some Sundays.
I am from suburban Philadelphia and the 50/50 split between Italy and Ireland, from roasted garlic-y peppers and pizzelles and baked potatoes with A1 sauce and Chicken Divan.
From wiping crumbs from the kitchen table onto the floor and calling it clean.
From locking all the doors, and he slept on the deck.
I am from decorative boxes covered in pretty green ivy that matches the walls in the breakfast room and four thin, discolored albums and one big, white one with gold trim. I am from the frames lined up on the shelves on the porch. I am from the surviving items not destroyed by the flood. I am from everything not destroyed.
Tiny Texts Part 2
4 hours ago
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