I am from dirty cleats and tattered jerseys

I am from dirty cleats and tattered jerseys,
From headbands and running shoes.
I am from the layered brick that is bathed in the scorching heat of the sun,
From the complex everlasting scent of cinnamon fluttering through the air.
I am from the native succulents and their puckered stems.
The blossomed cacti overlooking the colorful flowers.

I’m from tribal dances and sun kissed complexion from ancient ancestors and wise grandparents.
I’m from hard workers and go-getters and from caring community helpers that strive for a better living environment.
I’m from “Hard work pays off” and “Money doesn’t grow on trees” and “success is earned and not given.”
I’m from strict catholic grandparents, where weekly attendance to church is desired

I’m from Chula Vista and the Cheyenne tribe hailing from the outskirts of Nebraska
Cornbread and Blueberry hominy.
From hearing about my grandma losing her mother at a young age, becoming the mother figure and raising her siblings on her own.
Where old memories now rest peacefully, in an old broken down box.
I am from an adventurous family where nature is greatly respected.