To answer this question is easy

In a very complicated way.

I could answer with my family’s history,

But my history was changed.

I was born on the other side of the earth,

But don’t know that side of my story

Since any record of my family before my birth,

Is vague and not that informing.

 

So instead of continuing from the past,

I come from what I remember,

But because that information is limited,

Where I’m from is the life that I’ve lived so far.

 

I’m from the steep, rough driveway

(Running, tumbling, falling down.)

Scraped, cut, needing a band-aid,

Bleeding, waiting for mom to come help.

I’m from the dirty swing hanging-

Underneath the porch.

From the dog that comes to lick me

While I swing back and forth.

From the blazing sun in summer

to the gentle breeze in fall,

From the bare trees in winter

and the pollen in spring that covers all.

I’m from sit down and shut up,

stop talking, that’s enough,

Stop yelling in the house,

Just go outside and run.

I’m from the judgements,

the looks, the stares,

the rumors, and the comments.

About how I look or what I wear,

But I’m not really bothered.

I’m from the expectations

Of how to look, behave, and act,

But those rules are quite useless:

I never follow the straight, well traveled path.

I’m from head shakes, eye rolls, and forehead slaps

Due to the constant questions, I always have to ask

I’m from everyone asking, “did you take your pill today?”

Yes I did, but sometimes I just say what I want to say.

You see, ADHD is a funny thing

And sometimes a little annoying.

But anyway,

Wait…

What was I gonna say?

Oh yeah,

 

I’m from the cuts and bruises, constantly appearing,

I’ve lost track of where they are,

But each one leaves a scar.

And if you can’t tell, I’m really good at falling.

I’m from the hot summer heat,

From the beetles and the bees,

From marching on a grassy field

Till the grass is dead.

I’m from chicken sandwiches at third quarter break

After the halftime show at all the football games.

I’m from the hard chairs that pull my hair

In the freezing classrooms here

while being lectured on what year

Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue

(it’s 1492).

I’m from the laughter 

Hidden in the loud and chaotic commons,

From taking food from my friend,

Who’s unaware and sitting right beside me.

 

I’m from the smell of school buses:

The specific smell that’s always there,

But can’t quite be described.

I’m from covid and zoom

And doing 7th grade band in the garage.

 

I’m from the increased heart rate 

Caused by the assignment I forgot,

I’m also from the “you are capable of more than this”

When they finally see the NTI.

I’m from the sweat stinging in my eyes

From when I had to run - a consequence,

Of that stupid NTI.

 

I’m from the dresses in 5th grade, 

And 14 inches of my hair cut off.

Those were both rewards

for doing stupid stuff.

 

I’m from the bloody noses 

That happened for no reason at all,

From misbehaving in kindergarten

And being dragged, screaming, down the hall.

 

I’m from running into a no parking fire lane sign

Face first, during a fire drill,

And when we went back inside

I then ran into the door.

 

Somehow,

From all of this, I stand right now,

just to let you know:

Contrary to popular belief,

I’m not done growing yet.