I am from old manure-stenched barns to
loud horse hooves beating churned dirt.
From my small toy-cluttered room
to the shaded hole under the old oak tree.
I am from scary news to low-praying hands.
From my mother’s cleaner-filled hospital room to
grandma playing house with my sisters on the floor.
I am from the couch pillow fort to watching my upset
mother’s TV-lit face.
I am from open-windowed, wind-whipped car rides.
From Grandma’s warm, thin noodle marinara pasta to
Grandma happily telling scary stories by moonlight.
I am from the fast Cherry Festival Tilt-a-Whirl to
the aching stomach afterwards.
From enjoying the cold, chunky, chocolate Moomers ice cream
to watching large white cows grazing on fresh, green grass.
I am from the bipolar winters to the sticky hot summers,
from the steaming sand dunes to the freezing lake.
I am from many different days that helped
form me into the person I am today.