Where I’m From

Photo by Etienne Assenheimer on Unsplash

I’m from Redwood City, Iris Street, street of boredom and loneliness, street of dread, street of danger, street of drunk, drugged grandmother crumpling to the curb when we pick her up for brunch.

I am from yelling. Humiliation. Rants. Tears. No, not tears. Seldom tears. Rage. Only rage. The tears came late, if they came at all. The weeping. That’s your mother, said my father. Maudlin.