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.