I am from smog and dirt and dust.
I am from the stars.
I am from a house of order and business and saturday family games nights.
I am from creaky hardwood floors and squeaky bunk bed ladders
I am from cracked pavement and flower-freckled fields
I am from street barbecues and childhood wars,
Waged on the battlefields of backyards
and street corners.
I am from sleet and hail and grass.
I am from the morning my parents came back with another one tucked between their arms.
I am from the long nights spent fully awake,
Singing my heart out on a hair brush.
I am from the way lights twinkled in my sister’s eyes when we played at being cowgirls and tyrants and armor-clad knights,
waiting for a princess
to save them.
I am from waiting in line for the trampoline in our neighbor’s yard.
I am from all the times I tried to grow superpowers.
I am from the caterpillar season,
Spent in glass jars and hidden in broad-leaved bushes.
I am from heat and broken fans and popsicle sticks.
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