Where I'm From

I’m from the middle.
Middle America,
Middle class,
Middle mind-sets, leaning back
Some call it a sink-hole, some call it home
Some call it heaven, but I simply call it my own
Tucked away in the back of my mind
Live days filled with friends and sunshine
Every summer hour spent outdoors
Until a thunderstorm blew in and rain poured
Squelching the heavy, humid heat
And bringing a scent of summer, earthy and sweet.
The rolling hills and big oak trees
Dark brown earth holding perfect rows of bright green.
Playing runaways in our woods and Olympic divers in the lake
Away from this place, wonderful memories I take.
The warmth of grandma’s meals around our full table
And the irreplaceable feeling of a family, happy and stable.
Sparkling icy branches and snow covered fields
Called for long days of sleds and snowmobiles.
Steamy summer nights would begin to cool to Autumn harvest
On a jog through chilled air, an earthy smoke would fill your chest.
And as green transitioned to rusty orange, yellow, and red
Days spent outside turned to school instead.
Crisp fall days full of class, tennis, and football
Cheering together for our team, with no clue at all
That another world existed, that wasn’t like this
One where everything wasn’t just this perfect.
My life was a playground; the American dream
And upon my decision, many thought I was crazy to leave.
For where I’m from, our culture is set
If you’re different from us, the city is your best bet.
People just don’t leave here
And any sense of change has a negative leer.
Here, people marry, make babies, and live in cookie-cutter homes
And feel that they have it all, even if it is a clone.
If you think my attitude towards home appears ambiguous, you would be right,
But so it goes as the pattern of my life.