I’m from the valley of the sun,
raised in the desert...
I’m from where cacti outnumber trees.
The prickly green stubs like the thumbs of ogres.

From storms of dust, not rain…
Where brown clouds devour the desert scene.
From sheets of sand leaving nothing uncovered.
The landscape looking post apocalyptic.

I’m from scorching summer days splashing in the pool.
Trying to combat the elements.
I’m from the abyss of blue, my best friend,
there to protect me from the despicable sun.

From sharing my father’s passion for baseball.
Spitting out stats and factoids about our national pastime.
From tranquil late night car rides home from Chase Field.
The flickering of brake lights, mesmerizing...

I’m from 50 degree winter days,
the land of no parkas.
I’m from where snow is as foreign as the latin language.
The white blankets never kiss the sand...

From neighborhood football games in the street,
on my Razor with pigskin in hand.
From banging on wooden door with the strength of a hundred men.
So anxious that I might break it.

I’m from “Be home by sundown, T-Bone!”
Knowing the consequences if I didn’t abide.
I’m from “C’mon Mom! Can’t I stay out longer?”
Pleading for just five minutes more.

From races down Richmond hill.
Our own Olympics.
From scraped knees dyed black with asphalt
“Rub some dirt on it Champ!”

I’m from savory Thanksgiving feasts with my grandparents.
Eating enough Jello eggs to make an elephant sick.
I’m from competitive games of cards with the people I love most.
The agony of defeat and the jubilation of victory.

I’m from the valley of the sun,
raised in the desert.