I belong to a time of youthfulness,
the sting of a needle-like prick of a wasp in the summertime.
A time of sitting on my dad’s lap as he mowed the lawn, feeling like a princess.

I belong to a time of competition,
craving adrenaline as the starter shouts “On your mark, Set, Go.”
A time of learning by experience.

I belong to a time of adventure,
jam-packed into the white Jeep Cherokee next to my brother.
A time of being one with the wind.

I belong to a time of sparking these memories,
from the marshmallow-filled Thanksgiving sweet potatoes, to the cherry-stained table cover.
A time of family tradition.

I belong to a time that is piled with moments,
smiles, sobs, surprises.
A time of life.