I am from the smell of pine trees,

the sound of boats buzzing.

I am from smelling burning fire,

a stomach about to explode from stuffing my face with s’mores.

I am from a cabin,

a place surrounded by family—or so I thought.

I am from a mother,

a mother who hid truth, darkness, and sadness.

I am from a father,

a father who gave up.

I am from an older brother, who built a brick house

to shelter me from the reality of my life.

I am from a younger sister, who hid under my shoulder,

and followed in my footsteps and became broken.

I am from independence,

forced while my mother worked for hours to support her children.

I am from a work ethic,

governing life and my desire to have fun.

I am from strength and confidence,

emotional and physical barriers taking this trait away from me.

I am from happiness and laughter,

laughter that I find in the sadness.

I am from ignorance,

that I spent time with my father and mother every summer.

I am from a cabin

surrounded by my fathers' friends, my father's favorite bars, and my father’s other life.

I am from a cabin

that destroyed my parents' relationship and ruined my father.

I am from a cabin

sold during the divorce.

I am from a cabin,

that helped me escape from reality and create my ideal world—or so I thought.