I’m from mismatched kitchen table chairs and hardwood floors spotted with plastic toys where a boy with sunlight colored hair and an everlasting smile greets me.
I’m from late night jam sessions on the old acoustic guitar where we belt out off pitched lyrics to the crickets and dance beneath the New England stars.
I’m from coffee stained books with broken backs and yellowing, dog-eared pages where I’ve been a thousand people and lived a thousand lives.
I’m from laughing at my own jokes and dancing to my own beat and belting out the lyrics even if they are off pitched.
I’m from watching the stars even if from afar and tracing constellations on freckled painted faces as we drive until the sun kisses the horizon.
I’m that mismatched kitchen chair-owning, late night-jamming, coffee stained book-reading, offbeat-dancing, constellation-tracing girl.
That’s where I’m from.