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Where I Am From

I am from a scanty town, soccer on Saturdays and Scooby Doo.

From racing the neighborhood boys in the heat of the summer...winning.

I am from a fleece pink coat with teddy bear shaped buttons, freezing walks to the bus stop and fake friends.
I am from a faded humble yellow house with jet black shutters, creeping ivy up the side.
From colorful polka dots walls, a brown shaggy rug and painted deep red stairs.
I am from a moving truck.
A moving truck that held my white bed frame and lady bug chair.

 

I am from a rundown and shiny new town, riding horses and red lipstick.
From racing on the track and lacing up my dance shoes...bruised toenails falling off.
I am from a red coat with a hood lined with fur, riding in the car with my dad at 5:45 am and real friends.
I am from a red, brown brick house with a white, quaint porch and a chilled cement basement.
From plain walls, an ocean of tan carpet and red, white, and blue metal stars on the mantel.
I am from a moving truck...again.
A moving truck that held my summer memories and school pictures.

 

I am from Illinois, I love you and ice cream sandwiches.
From racing the track, and cross country too...I am always running.
I am from a dark electric blue ski jacket I lose, driving myself in my reliable Prius and dependable friends.
I am from an country home, a field of weeds with obnoxious ground squirrels and dog pawprints.
From worn wooden floors, and laughter filling the spacious home, laying by the cozy fireplace.
I am soon to be from a moving truck...again.
A moving truck that holds my high school yearbook and my future.




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