In the 9th grade I had a writing teacher, who I loved, task us with writing an “I am from” entry. I remember writing things like “I am from a dancing kitchen, a dusty truck, a Joey in my pocket and 10.9’s”. They were all the things that described me at age 15. (Wow. I just realized, age 15, that was 10 years ago. I can’t believe I turn 25 this year) They still describe me, perfectly in fact, but I think the last 10 years deserves to be noted too.

At age 25 (that’s not old right?!?)

I am from… a plot of land that felt untouched- because as a child everything feels like it’s clean and pure.

I am from… Wildcat Country- where I learned to bleed blue with teammates who felt like family.

I am from… a break-up that lasted too long. Period.

I am from… a rental house with no hot water, little insulation, and a lot of fun, where I experienced the greatest girlfriend moments, that I miss much more than the house.

I am from… a long car ride to Colorado- that still brings tears to my eyes.

I am from… a summer of hotel living- where I could feel my life pivoting into a new stage.

I am from… a Mexico ghetto apartment that I wish I’d have enjoyed more at the time, and hadn’t focused so much on leaving.

I am from… “Button” and buttons everywhere.

I am from… a short hair cut- at which time the hair dresser said to me “You look like a fresh start”.

I am from… a blue wedding- a beautiful day in every way.

I am from… The South now (but not really) and don’t call me a Yankee.

I am from… a short stint in unemployment, or ‘the good ol’ days’, which actually sucked, but only less so than working in retail.

I am from… a little house with no closets, a remodeled kitchen, and a new paint color- things I thought I’d never miss, and am still trying not to.

I am from… GaterBait, Wally, Cheeto, Roxie… Kevin and Snorkel.

I am from… a lot of missing, and a place where everything seems very far away from where I want it to be.

I am from… a husband who loses his keys, but remembers to make coffee everyday that he doesn’t like to drink. A man who encourages me to do anything I want to, including write. The person who influences me to keep growing and changing even after everything feels settled into place.

I am from 2007-2013, and hopefully far beyond that.