Where I'm From
I am from salt shakers,
from dream catchers and rock band.
I am from the cookie cutter house with our unique style,
with sage colored walls,
smelling of Yankee Candles and what’s for dinner;
spaghetti and meat balls, even though we’re not Italian.
I am from the kitchen bamboo plant,
the one that never stops growing,
from the seashell I accidently stepped on last trip to the beach.
I am from playing kick the can with neighbors,
from making a fast break to the diet coke can sitting in the Walsh’s driveway.
I am from where feet forever imprisoned by shoes meet soft dirt.
I am from Christmas’ with the Vogels and falling asleep by the fire.
From handmade gifts and saying “it’s the thought that counts,”
I’m from the carefree Germans and the humorous Irish.
From stories of brave relatives and crazy parties.
I’m from my mom Lisa and my grandma Patricia,
who taught me that you don’t have to be a crafter to sew.
I’m from trips to Rehoboth Beach.
From sitting on the beach and diving waves.
From sitting on Pop-pop’s porch, stuffing our faces with salt water taffy,
Listening to stories of when my mom was young and liked the Beatles.
I’m from “Eat you carrots,” and “What are you wearing?”
from when all I would wear was clothes from the boy’s department.
From, Orioles jerseys and torn-up jeans.
From vintage shirts found in a box in mom’s closet.
I am from fads and phases.
from Gwen Stefani to Green Day,
from Zac Efron to Alex Gaskarth.
I’m from my own dictionary,
from using words like “shizz” and “golly”.
I’m from the 21st century,
from the cell phone forever in my pocket,
to the blog where I pour my heart out only for no one to read.
I’m from my video camera where my ideas and memories are trapped in HD widescreen,
I’m from that song stuck in my head,
From unknowingly tapping out a drum solo with my pencil,
From clutching to concert tickets, shouting song lyrics,
Forever etched into my memory.
I’m from right here,
from Captain Crunch and Lean Pockets,
From saying “I’m telling you- they’re way better than Hot Pockets!”
I’m from the card games with dad,
who acts like he lets me win.
From the fights with my sister,
the best friend who’s always there.
I’m from sweet summer evenings,
from staying out late with friends in the tall, green grass,
counting the stars one by one, tossing “what ifs” back and forth,
from closing my eyes and surrendering to the endless sensation of a cool breeze.
I am from my guilty pleasures,
from Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream with a side of Degrassi,
from dancing alone in my room with music so loud the neighbors dance too.
I am from desperately trying to stand out in a world that is all too familiar.
I am from my daydreams, filled with excitement and happy endings,
from doodles, songs written on the corner of math homework.
Postcards, silly notes, photos and friends.
All kept in the beat up scrapbook under my bed.
from dream catchers and rock band.
I am from the cookie cutter house with our unique style,
with sage colored walls,
smelling of Yankee Candles and what’s for dinner;
spaghetti and meat balls, even though we’re not Italian.
I am from the kitchen bamboo plant,
the one that never stops growing,
from the seashell I accidently stepped on last trip to the beach.
I am from playing kick the can with neighbors,
from making a fast break to the diet coke can sitting in the Walsh’s driveway.
I am from where feet forever imprisoned by shoes meet soft dirt.
I am from Christmas’ with the Vogels and falling asleep by the fire.
From handmade gifts and saying “it’s the thought that counts,”
I’m from the carefree Germans and the humorous Irish.
From stories of brave relatives and crazy parties.
I’m from my mom Lisa and my grandma Patricia,
who taught me that you don’t have to be a crafter to sew.
I’m from trips to Rehoboth Beach.
From sitting on the beach and diving waves.
From sitting on Pop-pop’s porch, stuffing our faces with salt water taffy,
Listening to stories of when my mom was young and liked the Beatles.
I’m from “Eat you carrots,” and “What are you wearing?”
from when all I would wear was clothes from the boy’s department.
From, Orioles jerseys and torn-up jeans.
From vintage shirts found in a box in mom’s closet.
I am from fads and phases.
from Gwen Stefani to Green Day,
from Zac Efron to Alex Gaskarth.
I’m from my own dictionary,
from using words like “shizz” and “golly”.
I’m from the 21st century,
from the cell phone forever in my pocket,
to the blog where I pour my heart out only for no one to read.
I’m from my video camera where my ideas and memories are trapped in HD widescreen,
I’m from that song stuck in my head,
From unknowingly tapping out a drum solo with my pencil,
From clutching to concert tickets, shouting song lyrics,
Forever etched into my memory.
I’m from right here,
from Captain Crunch and Lean Pockets,
From saying “I’m telling you- they’re way better than Hot Pockets!”
I’m from the card games with dad,
who acts like he lets me win.
From the fights with my sister,
the best friend who’s always there.
I’m from sweet summer evenings,
from staying out late with friends in the tall, green grass,
counting the stars one by one, tossing “what ifs” back and forth,
from closing my eyes and surrendering to the endless sensation of a cool breeze.
I am from my guilty pleasures,
from Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream with a side of Degrassi,
from dancing alone in my room with music so loud the neighbors dance too.
I am from desperately trying to stand out in a world that is all too familiar.
I am from my daydreams, filled with excitement and happy endings,
from doodles, songs written on the corner of math homework.
Postcards, silly notes, photos and friends.
All kept in the beat up scrapbook under my bed.