I am from the smell of Sunday morning breakfast, the first thing I smell when I awake

I am from the cottonwood that sits in my backyard, whose limbs have protected me from storms

I am from the sound of horses that echoes all hours of the night

I am from early mornings watching my dad fish

I am from cold mornings on the lake in our boat

I am from long walks at night in the neighborhood, to clear my mind and think

I am from smiles and laughter, and tears and sorrow

I am from the smell of fresh cut grass, as it lingers in the summer air

I am from lots of scratches, scrapes, and bumps

I am from countless “mud pies”, which I made with my sister on a nice spring day

I am from the sound of crunching snow, which seems to arrive earlier each year

I am from the kitchen being a mess and the laundry not done, because my life isn’t perfect

I am from hours and hours of baking

I am from “all-nighters” with friends, then regretting it the next day

I am from the squeaky swing set, which I would sit for hours and swing

I am from Montana