I was from a land where the dirt was actually clay and the grass got quite green.
From when my mom was still happy and breathing,
When family was all that I cared about.
From the swoosh of the trees and the chime of the wind chimes hanging from the roof.
When it was quiet and peaceful,
Not loud and clamorous.
I was from a small community of friendly faces and southern accents.
From a school with kind people and unforgettable teachers,
A place where shy was all I knew how to be,
When country music was the only genre of music I liked.
From the sound of dogs barking and the loud yelling from my mom and step-dad,
The sounds of pots and pans hitting marble tiles,
The feeling of sweat trickling down my forehead.
I am now from a land where the ground is covered in snow in the winter
A land where I was raised to know as a “temporary home.”
A land where I only went to in the hot summer months.
I am now from sad summer weeks, playing the Sims 4 on my virus attacked laptop,
From hanging out at a child infested park with Jacob and Jared,
From a home full of new yet familiar people.
I am from Monticello, a town that I love yet hate. A town that I can always feel empty but full.
From many days staying up until 3 AM and sleeping in until 1 PM,
From staying with my nana, stuffing salty-yet-peppery-popcorn into my mouth.
I am from staying up late with Gracie, my mind racing with confusing thoughts.
From a place where my sexuality and pronouns are literally “no,”
I am from Monticello, a place where almost everyone is accepting.