I’m from new friends and empty houses,
backflips on bouncy blue floors,
and autumn-scented candles.

From icy winters changing eyes from blue to gray,
never coming home or taking life seriously,
and falling (headfirst) in love with the new world before me. 

I’m from Kylee’s arms linked in mine as we walk down frigid streets at night,
concerts with music so intense I felt it vibrate through my body,
and afternoons at Nature Hill being up to no good.

From humid summer days cliff diving and adventuring,
broken lawn chairs in Brady’s garage occupied by the friends I call family,
and legs covered in scratches and scrapes telling of what we’ve been up to. 

I’m from paralyzing laughter that doesn’t make a sound,
no dull moments or unoccupied nights,
and one year later, the friends that aren’t new anymore and the house that I’ve grown into.