I am from driftwood pillaged from Cedar Beach
I am from pink security blankets and plastic chess boards
I am from an ordinary quarter acre lot and smoke from the wood burning fireplace or the vanilla tobacco from my father’s pipe
I am from green, leafy packasandra in the front yard to replace a tree downed by Hurricane Gloria whose growth knows no bounds and takes up all the space intended and more

I am from gold aluminum Hanukkah gelt and drawing comics on my bedroom floor to pass the lonely hours
I am from the strong matriarchs of Grandma Ruth and Great Aunt Pearl and from loud, animated voices with Long Island accents

I am from a people who forgive but never, ever forget — it’s actually our proud, trademarked motto
I am from four hour seders during spring breaks in Florida and from fried matzah brei and Colosseo pizza – best in NY
I am from a driven single mother who earned her Master’s degree while working full time, desperate to gain financial independence and from my great grandparent’s namesake I would stumble upon at a Holocaust Memorial in the Czech Republic

That dream – a visit from Jesus before I was Bat Mitzvahed before I had any idea who He was
I am from the moments of being painfully aware I was adopted being called “vanilla and chocolate ice cream” when with my blonde, white sister, now repeated in adulthood as the mother of an adorable towhead
I am from an outside mismatching an inside, of hundreds of plays, musicals and performances that saved my life by giving me a place to belong and create and dream, and of adoption — once a source of tremendous pain, uncertainty and confusion —  that now takes on a stunning new rubric in the family of God.