I am from sledding down the big hill behind my Michigan townhouse during chilly winter days,
carving spooky pumpkins with my brother during Halloween that would light up the
night, and moving from Massachusetts to Michigan.
I am from tossing icy snowballs at my frozen friends after a monstrous snow storm.
I am from my parents who would read Dr. Seuss to help me fall asleep.

I am from water guns shooting at my soaked clothes during hot summer days.
From the sun's glamorous rays that would shine on me as I slowly trudged to the welcoming
library
Georgia illustrates joyful days with friends and family.

I am from watching emotionless ghosts and skeletons limp by slowly as I creep from house to
house with scary friends.
From going house to house with baskets that smile evilly at me as they fill up with
delectable sweets.
Halloween creates joyful memories in my heart.

I am from balls running away from me as I play in my backyard.
From excitement that coursed through me as others shouted and laughed in the clear pool
water.
Summers draws happiness and fun into my mind.




I am from the Atlantic ocean pummeling me to the wet and sandy ground with its slow waves.
From sand covering me as I get buried while I watch the seagulls soar lazily in circles as they
wait for their next meal.
Sanibel Island spreads warmness and joy into my open mind.


I am from airplanes gliding gracefully through the cloudy skies.
From watching the green forests and pastures as I look at the earth from up high.
Delta Airlines glide through my thoughts as I remember China.

I am from my brother poking me as I try to drift to sleep during endless car rides.
From breathing in the cool air as the trees swayed softly around me while the birds chat loudly
to the other birds around them.
China draws colors into my mind during dull days.

I am from creeping up a winding slope with my old walking stick in hand from tree to tree as
other tourists examine the cloudy view from above.
From crouching on the edge of a rocky cliff 5000 feet in the air as I peer down the mountain
without a rail to protect my body.
Yellow Mountain climbs ladders into my memories as I remember Golden Sunrises in the
mornings.

Memories are like windows. They always see something whether it's a big city or calm countryside. Things may happen, things will wither, and eventually the window will shatter and break for a new window to be replaced to the spot where it used to stand.