I am from fruit every day, and too many spicy snacks that melt my mouth. 

A family that really wants me to eat berries, but I always refuse. 

My mom that cooks too often, and my dad that barely ever cooks. 

My dad that cooks some kind of meat, like steak, or sausages. 

I am from too many old leftovers after my dad forces my mom to make too much food. 

A mom that cooks any kind of pasta, and mouthwatering dishes that her grandma would cook for her. 

I am from my dad saying that I remind him of my uncle after I enjoy the taste of spice, but can’t handle it. 

And always choosing Asian food when it’s my time to choose. 

I am from craving instant ramen every day, and my grandma that serves me juicy fruit that never has time to expire, every day she’s here.

I am from steaming take out and the wonderful aroma of cooking, once I get home from a long, tiring day. 

And catching up on the family shows that we watch on Fridays. 

I am from being the first one up and spending my extra time agitating my soundly sleeping parents. 

And changing, cleaning, bathing, and getting ready for school never after 7:00.

Not waking up my parents until  8:00 on weekends or else they yell at me. 

And hosting new faces whenever a family celebration happens. 

And my mom that gets mad when she has to cook too much steaming warm food. 

I am from going to the farmers market every Sunday with my mom, brother, and sister while my dad sits at home watching the 4 hour long, game of football. 

And juicy bacon that burns by mouth when I eat it too early after being too eager on Saturday.

I am from my room with the busy street outside my window raging with giant vrooming cars. 

And the neighbor on the left of my house with cancer that I always feel so sorry for after he yells in the middle of the night. 

My room feels safe and cozy, and the bed that sucks me into its cozy warm covers. 

My street that’s full of old people and people with their newborn babies that I always crash into when running down my street.

 I am from the optometrist neighbor that I called Clifford the Big Red Dog. 

 I am from the smell of old people that runs down the side of the road being carried by the windy fog that coats our hill. My house smells like wet dew because of how wet the mornings are. 

Old neighbors, that are talkative, and talk to me every time I pass their house, and a bunch of scary old people that give me the shivers. 

 I am from cars that speed down the road and leave the air around the house smelling like exhaust. 

I am from the streets of isolation roaming with blank face masks. 

I am from the whole family on work or school calls at 9:00

I am from hoping that Friday will come sooner, and living on the fact that I’ll finally have a break after the weekend.

 I am from hoping that I got a good grade on the piece of work I had to stress about to get done. 

I am from hoping we do well on my Saturday soccer game, and hoping that Monday will never come.  

And I hope the world’s carbon emissions will soon become 0. 

I hope that the ice caps would stop melting, and I hope climate change would stop. I am from the endless stress from hoping COVID-19 would go away. 

This is where I’m from.