Where I'm From | Teen Ink

Where I'm From

October 11, 2015
By EllakGale GOLD, Chicago, Illinois
EllakGale GOLD, Chicago, Illinois
16 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"Me, I'm dishonest, and you can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to watch out for." -Johnny Depp


Where I’m from, there are kids playing tag when it's 10 below,
Snow falls in August, and stops in March,
Christmas trees stay up and lit the appropriate amount of time,
and snowmen don't get punched to the ground the day after they’re made.

Where I’m from, you arent aloud to touch the barrel of cheeto balls without permission,
Stand-Up-Snack-Dinner is only when mom leaves town,
Mattresses are a mountain range, reaching across the country that is our basement floor,
and the giant stuffed gorilla is given a new piece of duct tape to patch up his eye.

Where I’m from the kids all play and I stay home,
too young to run as fast, and jump as high,
but at home is where the cookies are,
and the glitter glue that comes in every color of the rainbow.

Where I’m from the cat might throw up here and there,
So you have to watch your step,
and in the case that you don’t,
the shower is off limits, so go to the backyard and grab a hose.

Where I’m from the pipes freeze in November,
Making it extremely difficult to shower,
the windows are all double-paned,
and the screens are laced with icicles.

Where I’m from, at the end of winter, we all gather in our neighbor's yard,
And watch the pine trees burn in the campfire,
filling the sky with the sweet smell of day-old christmas,
and sprinkling the block with the memory of lifting up your daughter to put the star on the tree.

Where I’m from everyone knows your name,
your babysitter brings you a purple unicorn on your birthday,
your brother’s friend’s sister draws on your arm with red sharpie,
and your mom pretends like it was a good idea.

Where I’m from, your godbrother drops his ball in the firepit outside,
and when he reaches in to grab it, his arms sizzle like last night’s marshmallows,
And even though he comes home with bandages and ice packs,
his smile never breaks.

Where I’m from might be miles away,
and a new family might be erasing all of the stains and cracks I made,
But the memories of my home will never be forgotten,
because those memories created the person I am today.


The author's comments:

I moved from Minnesota to Chicago when I was four, so this poem is almost dedicated to my childhood there, all of the memories I have of my first home.


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