I am from embers of California fires wiping out acres of land, from thousands of minuscule earthquakes under our feet, from national parks toured with hundreds of miles worn through mine and Grandpa’s sneakers.

I am from trips to the beach with the intensity of the sun on my skin, from rendezvous throughout the city with the people who made me happiest, from surfing through the salty water and waking up to crashing waves as the morning approaches.

I am from the unknown outskirts of New York, from living on Main Street being neighbors with my best friends, from walking home from school with the class to make a stop at the local pizza shop.

I am from visits to the city with the people who make me happiest, from back to school shopping at Mall of America throwing away the babysitting money my friends and I acquired over the summer, from my first time experiencing the bleak, frigid snow.

I am from the cheese-loving, beer-obsessed, Packers-partying land of Wisconsin, from the lakes frozen over half the year, from the area of Lake Country where every dad seems to own his own company.

I am from the winter and summer sports like there is no in between, from delicate, ivory snowfall creating an elegant portrait, from spending our free time flying across the lake on a tube, with the people who make me happiest.