All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Where I'm From
I am from magnets,
from countless hours on the road and gas station pit stops.
I am from the room of endless bright light.
(Blinding, glowing,
It looked like golden honey.)
I am from the pink roses
outside my great grandparents’ front steps,
and the magnolia tree
whose roots were planted the same day as my cousin’s.
I’m from the annual trips to the mountains in the fall and fearlessly traipsing through unknown woods
with brothers and cousins
from Lois and Jane and Retzy.
I’m from the rule-breakers
and the heartbreakers,
from “Come inside!” to “Come outside!”
I’m from the cross that hangs in my grandpa’s study,
made from the remnants of that dazzlingly bright room
washed away one stormy August day.
I’m from Cajun roots with traces of Filippino,
boudin and crawfish.
From the middle finger my grandpa lost
to the garage door,
To my great grandma’s memories
that locked themselves away.
Tucked away on the top shelf of my closet,
underneath a layer of dust,
are water stained faces,
captured moments of the past.
And one of those faces is mine,
another limb on the family tree,
another face in the family pictures,
another childhood documented.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
Originally, this piece was created as an English project on heritage. It quickly grew to be much more than that. As I flipped through my grandfather's dusty and old manuscript, I discovered stories of people that I never knew existed that were apart of me in some way. Sitting down with my family for hours, I listened to memory after memory. Through the project, I was able to discover so much history and learn more about my roots.