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.