Who am I?

I’m from the smell of seasons passing in the blink of an eye. The smell of spring, and summer, and fall, and the painful scent of winter.
I’m from giggles in the car with Reginald and Rose the foxes and their adventures through worlds.
I am from trips to the library, where I beg to get tens of thousands of books.
From the dusty rocks on my elementary school playground.
From songs that ring in my head when I close my eyes.
From peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that I gave to the dog.
From phrases that sit in my soul and sing to me whenever I’m in the big wide world. Skate with your head up: Kommen Sie, Bitte: Let the knife do the work: Slow and gentle: One hand,
From reading Hungry Little Caterpillar on the floor as my dad records me.
I’m from singing Frozen at the top of my lungs in the living room.
I’m from braces in second grade that wrenched and pulled my teeth.
I’m from countless restless nights and early mornings; where the darkness coos to me to sleep.
I’m from bear hugging my cousins, to laughing at their jokes that I never understood.
I’m from Food Network in vacation hotel rooms.
From chasing seagulls on the beach as I stomp on shells and salt sprays in my face.
From making clay pots when the air was hot and sticky, and my skin was pink with sun.
From my grandpa pretending to eat the Play Doh milkshake I made.
From countless walks in the woods, where the birds sung to me, and the sunshine embraced me.
I’m from losing people like water slips through cracks in the concrete.
I’m from being the last to be chosen.
I’m from being the friend that walks on the grass. The girl that was always left behind.
I’m from being the second choice. The person someone picked another girl over.
I’m from feeling like I’m constantly doing something wrong.
I’m from looking up at the sky and wondering why they would hurt me like this.
But most of all. I’m from throwing myself into people I love.
Holding them tight. Even if they wriggle from my grasp.
From screaming into the sky the names of people who love me. And people I never want to lose.
From giving people my everything.
From calling out into the world for someone to treat me the way I always treat everyone else.
And the world answered.
I’m from tears, to letting go of people who can’t handle me.
From letting go of people who don’t understand me.
I’m from healing.
From forgiveness.
From joy. So so much joy.
I’m from the grass, and the wind, and the songs of the Earth and melodies of who I’m meant to be.
From the flowers, the trees, the mountains, and the leaves.
From the waterfalls hidden behind rocks that no one could see.
From the magic the dances in the air.
From years of love.
I’m from me.
A.J. Busse