I’m from living pay check to pay check.
From being too young to understand what’s wrong.
I’m from sitting in the back of a freezing ice cream truck, coloring with some old crayons that a kind stranger has given me.
Meanwhile my parents were busy trying to make ends meet.
I’m from parents who thought that selling snow cones in front of a Wal-Mart was an up grade in life and that our new apartment was as great as a mansion.
Even though there were cockroaches crawling everywhere.
I’m from being afraid of not knowing whether those are just shadows,
or just those nasty little insects lurking in the corners.
I’m from being afraid of the dark because it came so often,
and I would never see it coming.
I’m from having to live my life by the sunshine peeking through the window
because we couldn’t afford a lamp.
I’m from hope because a kind stranger gave my dad a job.
I’m from hard workers who could now afford to get a house.
Slowly but surly I realize that I am from the wealthiest family around.