I am from postcards,
from Bisquick pancakes and hair ties on my wrist.
I am from the people and animals around the house. It smells like happiness.
I am from the sunflowers in our garden,
the bright yellow petals gracefully glowing in the sun.
I am from breaking my left collar bone twice, you can hear the crack.

I am from being born with black hair turning to blonde,
and having the smallest hands.
From playing with frogs to dressing up like a princess.
I am from going up north with my family every month for all seasons.
From being a strawberry and pickle lover; the tangy taste I crave.
From cookouts and boat rides every Sunday with friends and family.

I’m from taking a car load of pets up north and having a dog to lay on in the house.
I am from Connie and Todd.
From loving to swim across the lake and back
and not loving ice cream.
I’m from the short side of my family and the hopeful adventurers,
from “it’s a long way to the hospital,” “look at the bright side” and “text me when you get there.”

I’m from Wisconsin and my parents,
maple syrup, spaghetti and meatballs, and rhubarb crisp.
From mom breaking her wrist at Slide Rock in Arizona
and the road trips to Colorado, skiing in the mountains.
The million photos in my mom's cluttered closet, waiting to be looked at.
I am from adventure.