Shaped by Memories

I am from old, grass-stained baseball hats taken down from the shelf every nine months,

from old teams’ pennants and the numerous dusty bobbleheads of my favorite players.

I am from gold-colored participation trophies, arranged like toy soldiers in ranks,

the closet stuffed with dress clothes three sizes too small, and the ever-luminescent alarm clock.

I am from a vibrant, crooked cherry blossom the color of spawning salmon,

from the rundown dog kennel overrun by oak leaves and always-dim solar lights.

I am from a stone caterpillar made with kindergarten hands and multicolored paint,

from an old mud-stained basketball and the swish of a wobbly 9 ½ foot basketball hoop.

I am from Filipino cuisine, mounds of pancit and egg rolls steaming on a blue china plate,

from the thick, double chocolate cake for dessert, as dark as a starless night.

I am from charcoaled chicken adobo and gourmet cannolis that melt in your mouth

to my Grandpa’s homemade gnocchi that is gone before it can come around the table again.

Every time the desktop sleeps, photos display,

a memory of the time before, a slideshow that gets longer and longer every year.

As I stare at the screen I see a young man spoiled by delicious family meals,

shaped by the memories of past athletic endeavors on a rickety old hoop,

a daydreamer amidst his favorite sports legends: I know I am home.

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