[Not] My Stories

Memories that are not mine

Are flooding through my mind.

Riverside laughter and extra fries

Lost family and the “other guys”

I remember driving down a road I’ve never been before

And watching trees grow before I was born

This is a love I’ve never known

Reaping the seeds my family’s sown.

Loving others through my mother’s eyes

And hearing, through my father, my brother’s sighs.

All the places they’ve called home

It’s like they are now my own

These memories from my family’s lives

Borrowed love that isn’t mine.

This week's poem is dedicated to my aunt, Rebecca, who loves to tell me the things she remembers, and somehow always knows the words that help me see everything through her fractured, beautiful vision.