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Where I'm from
I’m from a 16 year old mom in a judgmental time
from football in the back yard, and wanting to
throw the ball like the old man,
I’m from dirt draped hands and a chocolate covered face,
lying as she asked me what happened, like a puppy knowing what it did wrong.
I’m from a tear filled goodbye to a laughter filled welcome home,
missing those in a flag draped coffin, and sent off with a 21 gun salute.
From that white siding with bonfire and horseshoe
pits in the back, and barbecues after church on Sunday.
I’m from a “sorry son your mom and I just don't work,”
hearing my mother’s cry, and crying along with her, and
not crying anymore seeming impossible.
I’m from a “we’ll get through this like we always do”
moving like a crab from shell to shell .
From death, heartbreak, distrust. And a
grandmothers helping hand becoming a theme.
I’m from Roscoe & Bear, my first bird dog gone blind
and the dopey german shepherd with floppy ears.
I’m from friends and family being there for me,
and the love I never thought I’d have.
I’m from Saturday Chiefs games to Friday night
lights, thriving on the roar of the crowd.
I’m from crisp foggy mornings on the boat looking for
that trophy bass, and colder snowy mornings hunting
that monster buck.
I’m still from the same 16 year old mom, and few
would believe it, but look how far we've come.
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