Family

Since I was little, I always thought my heart was lopsided and never knew why.

Every night, my mom would say I would cry when she gave sleeping a try.

When I got a little older, I was rather shy to everyone, even to my family.

I grew close to some like my Uncle Gene, he taught me how to ride horses when I was about three.

At first, like anyone introduced to something new, I approached it nervously, but that horse soon became a friend to me.

When I grew a little more, I grew up to love boiled peanuts; made with love from the only grandpa that I knew.

I never would’ve guessed before him, I had another grandpa. Maybe he owned mutts in his youth.

I couldn’t forget that icky brown in my grandpa’s mouth when he lived in the south.

I grew up even more, meeting my aunt and other uncle, I’m sure he can crack a knuckle.

My Aunt Anita, she’s crazy, my Uncle Jimmy, he can be really lazy,

My Cousin Tina, their daughter, there is no one I know who has a temper that is hotter.

My Grandma Juliet, she won’t swim, but she loves her water.

Knowing all these people, some came and went. Others, though not tame, are just about the same now that I’m almost thirty.

Gee, who am I forgetting? Oh yes, silly me, I forget to mention my mom. I saved the best for the last.

My mom was born in the southwest, she’s always well dressed and almost never stressed.

When it comes to me and needles, she’s there and has me pressed down. Out of context, it sounds like a horrible sight.

In actuality, she does this so I don’t fight. Her grip is always tight, she used to help make sure teeth are always white and shine bright.

At night, she might leave to watch shows that usually give me and Grandma a fright, but most of all, she, like the rest of my family, love what I write. Make her mad and she might smite you.

The bottom line is that home is not where the dome is, but rather where some or all the people you come to know are.