I am a seed. I am old tennis shoes, muddy soccer cleats, colorful summer flip-flops, and Michael Jordan high tops that scored the winning point!
I am knee pads and shin guards; Whoonu, Mexican Train, Blokus, and Sorry.
I am fluffy gray, black-striped, and crazy calico.
I am feathery white, speckled black, and apricot sunset "egg-layers".
I am two bedrooms of read magazines, dirty clothes, quarters and one dollar bills; party favor candy, birthday invitations, and medals and trophies galore.
I am locker 1238; wrapped around magazines, school pictures, buttons and candy; colorful magnets, old sweatshirts, and magnet petry stretched out into nonsensical lines.

I am a seed.
I am frosty Friday autumn evenings, spent wandering around the track, munching on nachos, playing in the band, and losing my voice for our school football team.
I am unpacked suitcases, clothes strewn about, various vacation destinations; real or fantasized.
I am holidays with belly-filling food and colorful bouquets of "long time, no see" relatives pinching my cheeks and measuring my height; never ceasing to compare me to my old self.

I am sleep-overs, late night movies, and pictures where you cant tell who's who.
I am snowboards, video games, knuckle punching handshakes, and "Nice job kid, you rock"
I am shopping trips, parties, make overs and overly dressing to impress; long nights chatting on the internet, waving my way through mangled stems and leaves of the worn out "highschool drama".
I am tears, hugs, kisses, laughter, and heart to heart conversations at midnight.
I am questions, answers, clues and hints, and last-minute study groups at the library.
I am procrastinated projects, whipping up all I have to offer that day.

I am a seed.
I grow in the unpredictable garden of LO.
Each experience I have gives me that much more to push up through the ground where I can grow.
I grow alongside other seeds who are similar but yet so much different in many ways.
Julie, Carly, Taryn, Mary, Emily, Cole, Joey, Connell, and Zack.
Those who have come before us keep watch for weeds and drought.
Through the highs and the lows I have still managed to reach up through the soil, becoming a sprout.
Eventually, it will be time to disperse my seeds, and later will my petals wilt away, and everything left will wither to create better soil, more knowledgeable soil, for the many other that have life still to come.