where are you from? Where are you from, Alexia?
I’m from staying up late with mom some nights, when it was just her and I, watching reruns of my favorite movies with the cheesy graphics, on our tiny television set.
I’m from playing kickball with the older kids in the desolate parking lot, throwing in a, “Foul! Foul!” every now and then just for fun, and learning how to trash talk for the first time. Then would come home to my small apartment feeling high and mighty.
I’m from endless bonfires spent with family that come from near and far with home cooked dishes for everyone to share, when my cousins, grandparents and aunts and uncles would roast marshmallows for each other, when the sound of gossip and laughter filled the air.
I’m from taking thirds and fourths of my grandmother’s famous soup. Before getting another serving, I’d slurp down the soup and lick the bowl clean. My grandma would always say, “It’s like you’re a bottomless pit!” and I would laugh until my stomach ached.
I’m from getting up early to have extra whipped cream pancakes on the roof of my best friends house, yelling through the window to her, “Hurry! Don’t miss the sun rise!” And we would stay out there for hours telling stories and jokes.
I’m that tiny television watching, kick ball chanting, bonfire bonding, soup slurping, early rising roof girl.
That’s where I’m from.