I am from stained glass

From colors and light

I am from an old New York City apartment

whimsical and life-filled

I’m from the land of the Lenape (I had to look that up) 

from rent-controlled brick buildings, by the Hudson River 

and Riverside Park.

I am from Christmas trees: ceiling-high, winter warm,

bejeweled and sparkling.

I’m from living room play readings and Integrity,

From Saundra and Fred MacIntyre

I’m from the night owls and lovers of great art.

From “Don’t let anyone kill your spirit” and “Put God first”

I’m from “God expresses Himself in a thousand ways” and

“The Lord is my Shepherd”

I’m from the theater, from cheese fondue, (more recently) French pastries.

From the moment my father tackled my mother on stage during a rehearsal of Shakespeare.

I’m from the Chicago Hyde Park boy (my uncle) who slept on a cot without his own room and wandered the neighborhood meeting people from all over;

the boxes in the bottom of dusty closets in that New York apartment where no one lives but still has a beating heart;

the one place that speaks of home, which may not last…and I will have to let go of.