where im from

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I am from Cadiz, from the ¨gator pond¨ next to my torn down trailer. I am from dangerous bike rides, dodging trees. From climbing rock cliffs and pulling off ticks.
I am from sunny days from weeping willow trees and flower crowns. I am from bare feet in soft, green grass and swinging on a tire swing on hot days. From old friends, To new ones.  
I am from weeping willow trees.From a small brick house with the greenest grass and the warmest comfortto cool, delicate raindrops rolling down the window.From poofy dresses to big hair bows on a Sunday morning in church.
I’m from the coast of sun kissed skin due to 100 degree weather I’m from the smell of freshly made pan dulce from the supermarket and tacos from crowded swapmeets
Where are you from, seems to be the question everyone is dying to know. Let me just say I'm not from roses and dandelions, nor butterflies and lady bugs. So where am I from?
I am from piles of birthday and Christmas gifts. From stuffed animals to dolls and games scattered all over the house. I am from crayons, markers and coloring books to all the bright colors of nail polish and bracelets.
I am from music, from the fragile keys of my nanna's ole grand, from the sticky marshmellows stretched finger to finger. I am from the valley of the Smokey Mountains, the memory of my ancestors thrive around me.
Where I’m From I am from books From Cardigans and skinny jeans I am from the suburbs From the snow and the wind
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