I am from hurricane swept houses and rain drenched streets, waking on lazy Sunday mornings to my father cooking bacon and scrambled eggs, green and green plaid pleated uniforms with blazers and black and white saddle oxfords, watching the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show, afternoons at the kitchen table sharing cups of freshly brewed chickory coffee with my grandmother, a submarine gray Rambler with no air conditioning that transported three adults and two children to the hills of Tennessee, crawfish boils and chocolate snoballs and lakefront barbecues, TG&Y, and K&B purple, and Winn-Dixie, and Mardi Gras parades, and blistering summers, and evening showers where, if your heart listens, it can hear the rain drops sizzle as they sacrifice themselves to the raging heat of the concrete sidewalks. I am from yesterday, today and headed to tomorrow.