I come from…
My cabin up north.
Where I can’t wait to be at my cabin already.
Dying of boredom in the car but remember it is all worth it once I get to my cabin.

I come from…
The memories at my cabin.
Where my sister tipped our four wheeler into the ditch
Where we just sat in the cabin,
Played spoons for hours on end.
Where we couldn’t get into the driveway,
Because there was so much snow.
It went past my knees.
Piles of the fluffy white particles on the ground,
All stacked up.
Like a wall protecting our cabin from our car.

I come from…
The bad times at my cabin.
Where my uncle’s friend was riding my uncle’s dirt bike,
He fell,
Handlebar hit his ribs,
They were broken.
Where I got stuck in the woods,
Stranded for an hour or two.
Last year.
My friend and I were riding.
He got my four wheeler stuck in the mud.
It was completely stuck.
We tried and tried to get it out.
It was probably A hour walk back to my cabin,
A good 3 miles.
We had to keep trying.
I pulled on it,
He pushed on it.
It just kept getting deeper.
Finally we get it out,
Clean it off.
Do everything we can so my dad never finds out that happens,
We get back.
After a two hour ride,
And he didn’t notice.

Where I was too afraid to ride up this hill.
It was intimidating.
Tall,
Sandy,
And steep.
My four wheeler’s nightmare.
I thought I could never go down it because I wouldn’t be able to make it back up,
But I tried anyways.
And I succeeded.

Where my cousin kept falling off his little dirt bike,
And him not knowing how to start it up,
That was the job I was given.
Over and over,
Having to find him in the woods,
Then Picking his dirt bike up and kick starting it,
All day.

I come from…
The great times at my cabin.
Where we all rode in a group on our four wheelers.
Went to a sand pit,
Rode.
All day,
Just having a good time.
Where we sat by the fire,
Having a good time,
Everyone laughs and makes jokes.

I come from…
No matter what I do up there,
It will always be implanted in my brain.
Every little activity,
Every little detail,
Everything.