Where I'm From

I'm from magnolia trees
and traffic cones,
and throwing rocks at little fish
in little ponds. 
I am from oak trees, 
in big woods, 
and pine needles, 
in thin hair. 
I'm from glass bottles, 
thrown about, 
and fireworks
from secret adventures. 
I'm from midnight drives
with the top rolled down, 
and "bud-light-lime"
scaring me to death. 
From a long line of pink ribbons, 
that sadly lost the fight, 
but it's nothing I really ever knew, 
because I am from the naivety 
of saturated youth. 
Where outside I saw a streetlight
and thought about the things
hiding in the shadows, 
like that girl I grew up with,
who wasn't the same after elementary school. 
I'm from girls who don't talk to me anymore, 
and boys who never knew my name to begin with. 
I'm from ticking clocks, 
and mis-matched socks, 
and walking barefoot on tile floors. 
I'm from apple trees that provided golden retrievers with a mid-day snack, 
and Christmas Eves 
with crowded rooms. 
I'm from stress, 
and tension, 
and anxiety, 
and depression, 
and lots of other things that drove me crazy. 
I'm from mistakes, 
and stuff I'm not responsible for, 
even though I still feel guilty. 
And I'm aware that I can't change it, 
but I can't help wish that I could, 
rearrange the branches 
in our family tree.