The Pyle Inside

“Born here, raised here.” They say as

eyes turn to me

“Oh, um not I”

I reply cautiously

“Then where are you from?”

“Well I was born in California and I’m American

But some of my ancestors and relatives are from parts of Europe.” I try, sounding enthusiastic

“So… you don’t really know?”

They ask me judgingly with their curious eyes

“I do, I’m just not one 100% one thing.”

Eyes turn away, and feet start towards the door

“Wait!” I cry out desperately

The heads slowly turn back around

“I know where I come from.”

“I come from a family where every day is a new adventure,

where playing with siblings is never too young to do,

And where a laugh or smile interrupts every statement”

“I come from a house that lights up at night with the crackling wood sparks that fly out of our fireplace,

a house that’s always cozy and warm even when filled with boxes, and a house full of my vivacious family.”

“I come from a neighborhood just up the road from my school, where bikes are ridden on even the hottest summer days and

Where there are neighbors so close they walk up to your house just to pop in for a visit.”

“I come from the memories that have been collecting in my brain over the years

That comes into thought every time decisions are made.”

“I come from my family and I make my own roots.”