I am from four seasons.
From two acres of property--that my dad fortunately never let me cut--
in my historic, wrapped around porch, farm house,
swarming 20 feet branched trees accompanied by one beat-up tire swing.

I am from piling yellow leaves onto the blue tarp,
overjoyed to cast my body into the flock of golden-brown.
From pumpkin carving with purple, tingling hands
to salted, brown, almond-shaped seeds.

I am from snow plows, snow pants, and snow shoes
and mocking our family into snowmen.
From arriving to a thermal mug of hot chocolate with a pile of whipped cream
to then curling up on the couch with Polar Express, Elf, and A Christmas Story.

I am from slushed January,
to the budding Oak limbs.
From screams on the track and field, “KICK IT, KAILA, COME ON, G.”
to trophies of excellence.

I am from speed boat rides on Golden Lake.
Crashing into the water, and whipped off the tube.
From grilled hot-dogs and mosquito bites,
to sunburn and callused hands.

I am from seasons.
From two acres of property-- that my dad fortunately never let me cut--
in my historic, wrapped around porch, farm house.
With love for each and every part of the four.