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Where I'm From

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I am from a blue-collared father and a fun-loving mother,
Home videos of three blondies and “picnic lunches” in front of cartoons.
From 10 minutes late to church and “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it.”
(Famous quote by Mom)
I am from the annual Norwegian Christmas party,
Sugary sweet scents and stirring thick gravies
From laughter-filled Up North trips
And ignoring incessant mosquitoes


I am from plastic sleds and the smell of clean snow...
Frozen fingertips, paper snowflakes, and Swiss Miss hot chocolate.
From sweaty shin guards and grass stained jerseys,
Orange slices at halftime, sticky fingers.
Of bright June afternoons and “mom look, no training wheels!”
To hot pavement and scraped knees.
From polka-dotted t-shirts and striped leggings from the Gap,
“Bus #4”, strawberry scented erasers, and pigtails.


I am from homey coffee shops and puffy parkas,
Escaping the stinging January air, laptop open… solitude.
From dewy grass, sunny mornings, and hot black coffee...
The lake sloshing onto the shoreline.
I am from endless fields and the golden hour, the sun warming my face...
Running through an open meadow. Alive.
I am from my friends I call the bugs,
“Forever” by Chris Brown and thick summer air.
From a pounding heart, wood chips and fallen orange leaves...
Refreshing October air, legs pumping.

I am from what’s behind me--
sweaty shin guards, scented erasers...
I am from what’s with me--
hot black coffee, thick summer air...
I will be from what’s ahead of me--
training wheels gone, life in my own hands.




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