I am quirky and imaginable,
from mulberry potions, sandbox buckets, and spoons made out of sticks.
I am from laughing until our stomachs become a knot, 
to building tree forts in the backyard with my brothers until night falls.

                  I am from pain and fear,
from doctor visits and hospitals for weeks, stabbing motions in my side.
     I am from strong and independent,
from a twisting ovary, bursting appendix, and realizing being alone is sometimes key.

I am from young and adventurous,
from skiing, burnt from the sun.
(peeling skin, aching back and the regret of not putting sunscreen on.)
I am from watching fireworks lakeside on the fourth of July,
from pushing my brothers into the water.

                                      I am from car rides and trips,
from the smoky mountains to the middle of the woods up North.
I am from night kickball games to falling asleep to “Grandmas Attic.”
I am from love and hate,
from the love of tasty ice cream to the disgusting taste of tangy tomatoes.

     I am from towns and close family,
from growing up in North Lake to little ice cream shops up N orth.
I am from clumsy and spontaneous,
from failing to drop my ice cream as we buy it.