I am from the little white home.

From the smell of old wood prickling my nose,

and the discolored countertops in the cramped kitchen.

I am from limited green backyard.

From playing house and feeling grown,

with Kidkraft kitchen set and plastic snacks.

I am from one loving, sentimental family.

From my two blankies, green and blue,

who protected against closet monsters.

Who were always held by my tight grasp.

I am from snickers and smirks.

With the joyful little boys and girls,

who wouldn’t go without play that day.

I am from my young sister.

From pulling hair and wrestling upstairs,

who screams,“Stop it, I’m telling mom!”

I am from jokes and pranks.

From my uncle Matt and grandpa Richard.

Like, “Close your eyes and take a walk.”

I am from hard work and determination.

From my strong-willed parents.

From, “I know you can do it, try again.”

I am from listening for the ice cream song like a dog listens for his squeaky toy.

From racing up and now stairs to snatch money,

and sprinting barefoot down the driveway.

I am from the rewinding tape of vivid childhood memories.

From happiness and giggles,

all from that little white home.