I am from six hours of basketball on blazing hot days, my feet and arms weak and sore,
soccer in the snow, with my body shaking and my fingers numb,
leg killing bike rides, as long as an average school day that left me aching for a rest.

I am from a dandelion-colored house at the top of a tedious hill,
hiding from the chaos of the outside world,
sunlight and dog toys that cluttered the house,
to a dark, sleepy house where the wind would roar outside as if it were a tornado.

I am from the values of respect, kindness, and work ethic kept me going,
knowing the things that are difficult but I will at least try until sweat is dripping from my forehead,
work ethic left unmatched.

I am from “Be smart and be safe” and the “Where are you?” texts and calls,
From “Be yourself,”
(though that phrase is like pushing an immovable object up a steep mountain)
from learning my please, sorry, may I, hello, and thank yous so I can grow up to be the best person I can.

I am from all these things that made grow up,
the events that molded me,
the places it takes me,
but always to remember where I’m from.