I’m from chipped green shutters,
hanging on like my last wiggly baby tooth.
Cast iron stove frowning from the rust.
I’m from the offspring of two opposite
deciding to go their separate ways.
Sad, lonely nights …
I’m from dirty blond hair dancing
through the wind,
white Mustang with the top down,
black stripe racing down the center.
I’m from the Kiltie.
Humid summer nights with melty rich
chocolate ice cream,
crying for shelter from the sun.
I’m from filthy, fast feet.
Moon glistening while my toes scrape
Blasting music entering my brain through
I’m from 11 different homes.
Each year a new challenging journey waiting
to be taken. And from receiving fresh starts.
I’m from the 100-year-old house.
Tangled rose bushes,
chipped green shutters.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.