I am from the grey house behind the right field fence, and my dad yelling “don’t hit the house!”

Centennial Park.

From frustrating afternoons of pitching practice. Kicking my glove, picking it up, and throwing it on the ground.

Patience.

From the bumps and bruises of sixth grade football. Afraid of getting pounded when I received the hand off.

Black and Blue arms.

I am from breaking outside my St Charles bubble, but still reserved and still me.

Arrowhead.

From recesses of kickball and football. Arguing over rules and calls.

“Safe!” “No, Out!”

From the running and screaming of the preschool playground. “Flush down the toilet!”

Wee Know School

I am from Sundays of church, and my sister throwing tantrums in the middle of mass.

Embarrassing.

From laughing at my dad when he trips and stumbles over toys and clothes on the floor.

A messy house.

From “When one door closes another one opens” and “Don’t feel sorry for yourself.”

Gratitude.

I am from screwing around during golf practice when we weren’t supposed to. Joking around during each other’s backswing.

“Tyler, Christian, and Jeremy”

From angry, emotional rants that would continue a lunch period if I didn’t stop him.

Logan

From these people, places, experiences, and emotions.

Me.