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Where I am from
I am from the smell of Sunday morning breakfast, the first thing I smell when I awake
I am from the cottonwood that sits in my backyard, whose limbs have protected me from storms
I am from the sound of horses that echoes all hours of the night
I am from early mornings watching my dad fish
I am from cold mornings on the lake in our boat
I am from long walks at night in the neighborhood, to clear my mind and think
I am from smiles and laughter, and tears and sorrow
I am from the smell of fresh cut grass, as it lingers in the summer air
I am from lots of scratches, scrapes, and bumps
I am from countless “mud pies”, which I made with my sister on a nice spring day
I am from the sound of crunching snow, which seems to arrive earlier each year
I am from the kitchen being a mess and the laundry not done, because my life isn’t perfect
I am from hours and hours of baking
I am from “all-nighters” with friends, then regretting it the next day
I am from the squeaky swing set, which I would sit for hours and swing
I am from Montana
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