I Am From

I am from the gray blue house.
The moment I spot it my worries slip away.
The room with clothes scattered,
never folded,
never put away.
The bed never made.
But hey that’s me.
Standing on my tippy toes,
never quite reaching 5’3”.
“You’re short” they say.
“Yeah I know.”

The countdown to winter begins.
To the Friday nights with family,
the hills like a stiff white carpet.
The swooshing sound as I take off
gaining speed in movement.
I feel my skis rise and I lift into the air
feeling higher than I am.
My heart beats faster, hands break into a sweat.
Feeling the coldness rush through my veins.
Time for hot chocolate.
Icy fingers melting by the fire.
Boy, am I happy.

From the shakes at Grandma’s funeral,
screaming, sirens.
“It’s gonna be okay,” they say.
The trumpets that play in the brisk winter wind,
thank you, Grandpa.
You’re in a better place.

Caring
Stop your worries.
Be more positive.
Why is this so hard?
Impatient at times,
crabby at most.
Always sarcastic,
it’s just a joke.

Years pass as quick as a race car.
The first day of high school.
When did this happen?
Hey I’m a sophomore!
Oh look junior year...
Wait I’m a senior?
To slow down or speed up?
I still don’t know.






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