Where I’m from…
    Is a makeshift blanket fort draped across the backs of chairs,
    That collapsed when we grew too big to fit underneath.

Where I’m from…
    Is a grueling game of tennis with Kaitlyn and Dad,
    That ended when Dad’s elbow became too sore.

Where I’m from…
    Is an annual Thanksgiving trip to the Dells with Joey and Jeff,
    That fizzled when our schedules cluttered with work, school, and responsibilities.

Where I’m from…
    Is a countertop where I sit helping Dad make pancakes,
    That emptied when the days of Dad’s business trips turned into weeks.

Where I’m from…
    Is deep inside a beautifully written novel,
    That ended when reading became an assignment, not a hobby.

Where I’m from…
    Is a Monopoly board and a slew of little plastic people,
    That went on the dusty shelf in the closet when we got “too old” to play games.

Where I’m from…
    Is a dance party in the strobe light to blaring Jonas Brothers’ songs,
    That went silent when we were told that dancing is foolish.

Where I’m from…
    Is the sound of the ice cream truck as we chase it down the street,
    That lost its tune when our ears stopped listening.

Where I’m from…
    Is the smell of fresh cut grass and hamburgers on the grill,
    That abandoned our nostrils when family dinners became sparse.

Where I’m from…
    Is a blazing fireplace lit to unite the family in the living room,
    That burned out when no one came home.

Where I’m from…
        Is a handwoven welcome mat laid before an open door,
        That will remain ajar as “where I’m from” turns into “where I’m going”.