I am from babydoll dresses and mini-backpacks, from Kid Sister and Lisa Frank, from frozen pizzas and Flavor Ice, from Electric Youth perfume and Avon and from playing Nintendo and watching The Cosby Show, TGIF and Beverly Hills 90210.
I am from Rayburn and Lafayette Streets, from Roberts Road and from Village Square, from white wicker front furniture and woven blankets and puke beige walls and boxes and packing tape and the echoes off the walls when it’s empty. I am from the asphalt, from wheels humming along the highway, from eleven schools in twelve years and always making new friends.
I am from pampas grass, whose blades never failed to slice my fingers, and oak trees and Palmettos rising stately in the air, waving their leaves as if fingers brushing the sky.
