The Easily Forgotten
I am from a ragdoll,
from “act like a girl” and a rundown
from cake on holidays
from “don’t give up”
and “you need to try it first before you say you hate it.”
I am from a large oak tree,
from dark brown eyes,
from Maria and Lovino.
I am from stories with a large caterpillar
and a humongous hat.
I’m from beans and eggs with a side of soup.
I’m from a Catholic family,
cookies and candy in the kitchen,
the graying hair on my grandma’s head
and the large black glasses that frame her eyes.
Around my neck
I wear a locket with a picture in it—
a smile tugging at my mother’s lips
and tears spilling out of my brother’s eyes,
a stern expression adorning my father’s face—
I am from those moments
so easily forgotten.