From a swing set buried in the woods,
from lightning bug filled mason jars,
from wart-covered toads slipping through my grasp,
from peanut butter cookies dissolving the moment they hit my tongue,
from late night doughnuts and soda stored in sippy cups.
From horse flies pestering Sen’s perfectly red coat,
from a weeping willow’s shady escape,
from leaping grasshoppers,
from a fabricated, short-lived farm dream,
from tears, tantrums, and tainted love.
From woven hair wrapped into one snug bun,
from shiny cans expelling satisfying fumes,
from stretching until I felt like an elastic,
from broken toes and bruised knees,
from abandoned talent and found insecurities.
From swimming until hunger weighed me down,
from scorching August days,
from faded red to olive and freckles,
from John Prine and Bon Iver,
from “I love you more.”
From my mom’s health crumbling like a beaten down sand castle,
from my brother taken by the currents in his own warped reality,
from nights drowning in my own tears,
from a black cat crossing my path at the right time,
from a sister who understood the pain, but not my outlook on it.
From finding my place, people, and peace of mind,
from falling for the one who makes me laugh when I want to cry,
from excitement for the times ahead,
from long loops of country road,
from lost faith to regained hope.
I was born.