Again today, I reconvene With past iterations of this one meal And past iterations of this one Me. And I, again, in the gentle familiar Wake to voices in the kitchen The folk melodies I grew up knowing And I enter, again, Last One Up And eat cooled breakfast, blushing Because the chuckled surprise of “She’s awake!” Sounds just the same. And grandmother searches my face From across a windowed room In curious skepticism Of a girl with blond hair Caressing her coffee Who are you, then? I am the accumulation Of every page of my diary Layer laid upon layer Word upon word Conversations across pillows Shouting across tables. And in the eyes of those who’ve known me I shade my eyes from growing up And instead tiptoe to the blue That kisses the rugged soles Of shivering sandy feet And washes away, once more That which I’ve picked up That which I’ve carried That which I’ve treasured And I throw back my hair, And charge back up the hill With dimpled nose and wild smile To the ember-lit faces That taught me how To be thankful.