I am from the Christmas mornings with family and friends.

The brisk, sun-filled morning of fall on Thanksgiving day.

The spring day of Easter filled with blue skies and sunshine.

I am the summer day on the airfield, listening and seeing massive metal birds swarm.
The sound of my wheels on asphalt as I cruise into the warm days end, and the nights cool beginning.
The steam of my breath as I hear the sound of a rifle ringing out across the wooded hills of Richland.

I am from the house in Hartland,

the small yard with green grass and tall trees.

I am me.