I am from the place where my memories are locked away.
I am from the scent of my mother’s lavender soap, drifting through the farmhouse where I grew up.
I am from the view of thunderstorms rolling in, a warm breeze brushed by as I sat on the roof with my father.
I am from the towering oak trees I climbed, the places I explored, the forts I created.
I am from the observations I make about others that pass me by.
I am from the curiosity about places and people that surround me.
I am from the artwork I create to convey the world I see around me.
I am from movie theaters where I munch on sour candy, eyes glued to a horror flick.
I am from the tears shed as my home became smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror of a moving truck.
I am from blistering hot days in an unfamiliar state; lacking friends, lacking happiness, lacking hope.
I am from the heart aches of being able to see those I love only through a screen.
I am from the elation I felt as we moved home and everything fell into place like puzzle pieces.
I am from the bone crushing hugs I felt from friends and family.
I am from coffee shop dates with my boyfriend, flashing me a grin as I sketch him from across the table
I am from the box where I keep sentiments of days past.
I am from each movie ticket, flower, letter, photograph that I save because
I am from all the memories I have clutched onto throughout the years.