Where I'M From

I’m from the yellow house on the corner, With its spotty green grass and worn bricks lined up in not-so-perfect rows. I’m from the purple lavender and pale yellow roses that I picked in the spring And the unnaturally blue water, and smell of chlorine that lingers on your skin after swimming in the summer. I’m from the books piled haphazardly in a corner and the smell of coffee that drifts from the kitchen in the morning. I’m from the hidden places where I made fairy houses of moss and bark and the secret notes scrawled meticulously on scraps of paper. I’m from the sweet smell of pine in December and drawing faces in the frost of the car window. I’m from rainy days and polka-dotted rainboots and running outside before the rain stops to make sure I don’t miss it. I’m from the frozen dew drops that covered the grass on a winter morning that I was convinced looked like snow. I’m from the white walls painted with roses and the windows that let in the soft sunlight of the morning. I’m from the yellow house on the corner and the pictures that line the top of the fireplace. I am from all of those moments, all of the snapshots in time.