Where I'm From

February 3, 2017
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I am from grass,

from green jeans and grey skies.
I am from the mud puddles beneath my feet.
(Brown and smelly, it was similar to the dirt paths I once walked on.)
I am from the rose bush,
the downspouts and garbage cans,
I used as end zones.

I am from lace and leather,
from passing and tackling.
I am from the wooden fence and oak trees,
from brick walls and neighbors laughing.
I am from “that was a penalty” to “I wasn’t down,”
to “these teams are unfair!”
From the boohoo’s and boo-boo's, no love lost.
I am from bonding families and healthy friendships.
(Smiling and sharing a laugh like friends on the last day of school.)

I am from concerned parents,
from children playing and cowardly praying.
I am from sun rays glaring down.
(As if God watched and keeping me safe.)
I am from wearing Packer jerseys,
pretending to be Donald Driver,
“I can because I am.”

I am from these moments.
Few can see,
but these moments are important to me.

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