I’m from cozy fall nights in my stone brown house,

the waft of mom’s baking and the splattered colors of Annie’s art.

From bike rides with Dad to building a wooden go-kart.

I’m from Brazilian heritage,

    hearing mom speak in a language I don’t understand.

From Grandma’s trips abroad and showing her our land.

I'm from exploring the world,

climbing trees and overlooking the country fields.

From tearing through our backyard forest with cut out cardboard shields.

I’m from two step-sisters and one step brother,   

    seeing them three times a week.

From wishing we had more time to speak.

I’m from an outgrown family,

    siblings growing up and moving on.

From living at home and still mowing the lawn.

I’m from new experiences,

    trying to keep past friendships in an unfamiliar place.

From discarding thoughts with a Zen playlist and staring into empty space.

I'm from humble beginnings on a hobby farm,

growing up in a deserted town.

From bike rides to the only gas station around.

I’m from anxiety attacks and shaking on the bathroom floor,

Mom’s therapy and a warm cup of tea.

From feeling like few things could fix me.

I'm from loving hands,

peace and serenity.

From feeling safe with my family and friends surrounding me.

Yet, I still am from from cozy fall nights in my stone brown house,

the waft of mom’s baking and the splattered colors of Annie’s art.

From bike rides with Dad to building a wooden go-kart.