I am from…

I am from loud kitchens and fierce opinions. Where passionate and opinionated seem to run into each other.

I am from Irish laughter, late night sing alongs and Puerto Rican cooking.

I am from a neighborhood full of boys, cul- de- sac baseball, and patience wearing thin with arms crossed waiting to play.


I am from teenage angst and cars overflowing. Skipping class, and driving with nowhere to go.

I am from female companionship. Tears flowing that can only be seen by the moonlight, arms and voices raising garage roofs, and gentle reminders that our voices and feelings are validated. I am from never being alone.



I am from the love of a man who never felt he deserved it in return. Only I am allowed in to the depths to which I know the truth, and that my life is better with him in it.



I am from being taught patience and grace with each passing day from a child with no words.



This is where I am from.

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