Where I'm From

I am from Denmark, from windmills

And late summer nights.

I am from sitting on the back porch eating watermelon

And spraying myself with water.

I am from the rides at Legoland, from the green dragon

That I’ve ridden over and over and over. And from baking

bread around a fire and hiding in teepees.

I’m from the ranch, from cowboy races and riding lessons.

I’m from the time I fell off and my helmet broke in half.

I’m from “stay to the right” and “on your left”.

I’m from “keep your heels down” and “pick up your reins”.

I’m from holding baby goats and swatting bees from my soda.

I’m from barbeques and boxes of kittens, from the scent of a

sweaty horse after winning first place.

I’m from the Little Tykes playhouse in the basement, where my cousins and

I would play “babies” for three years, until we got too old for that and

it became runway modeling.

I’m from my dad reading me Harry Potter, and struggling to do the accent of Hagrid.

I’m from the impatient whinny of a hungry horse at dawn, from the cloud of dust when she runs away.

I’m from Easter basket hunts and running outside in slippers, eager to find the candy.

I’m from picking out and decorating Christmas trees.

I’m from my father trying to keep that one tree up, and from it falling down and crushing all my mother’s beloved ornaments.

I am from the times that made me who I am today.