I am From poem

I am from…

I am from the white crock pot

from pumpkin scented candles filling the house and basil plants used on our meals

I am from pillow forts in the upstairs living room and dogs running around with energy that is indispensable

I am from pink rose bushes

from the park down the street which I went to at least once a day

I am from cookies for Santa and Easter egg hunts

I am from Debbie and Carlos’s branch

from princess dresses and special birthday dinners

I am from goodnight moon

I am from “did you Brush your teeth?” And “life isn’t fair”

from ” I am abuela, and not grandma”

I’m from opening one present on Christmas Eve, and only one

I am from California

From carne empanadas and red velvet cupcakes for special occasions

I am from Trevor’s messed up face by getting smashed into a retaining wall from my dog

I am from the old heartwarming memories of collections from my abuela

Tons of scrapbooks piled high into many cabinets locking up the moments from those times not to be forgotten.


Rain can fall in practically two ways. It can come down as a soft quiet drizzle, or a hard, heavy downpour like little pebbles. Rain can also come along with golfball hail, lighting, wind, and thunder.A few days ago, during the night I woke up to the harsh grating sound of twigs against my window. Along with lighting strikes here and there. Last year, during my volleyball party, we were planning to go play volleyball outside. Except, rain was smashing down like bullets on a war field and lighting struck hard like a slap. We were trapped inside the whole time, till the end when we went out to run in the rain.