I’m from road trips in the car,
driving through storms, sunshine, and snow.
The soccer tournaments on chill fall weekends
and the summer softball games, that’s what I’m from.
I’m from “three strikes you’re out,” “practice makes perfect,” and
“you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”
The play by play talks with Dad,
and the secrets shared with Mom, that’s what I’m from.
I’m from jumping off the dock,
again and again until the moon replaces the sun.
The blistered backs from the scalding heat
and midnight ice cream runs, that’s what I’m from.
I’m from packed couches on football Sundays,
ending with celebration or mourning.
Squeaky basketball shoes and
the clicking of spikes on our hardwood floors, that’s what I’m from.
I’m from Friday night Brewers games in July,
and the seventh inning stretch with the crowd full of determination and pride.
The cloudlike cotton candy filled mouths,
and piggyback rides from Dad on the way back to the car, that’s what I’m from .
I’m from the past, present, and future
that shapes me.
The memories and
the family, friends, or strangers I make them with, that’s what I’m from.