By Ariana Price
I am from a petite town filled with luscious forests and friends who reside closeby.
A town called Wayland.
I am from the school bell’s calm hum that immediately starts chaos,
and the “click” sound of students typing thoughtful poems in English.
I am from bikes around my neighborhood
listening to other children happily play outside
and trips to glorious, delectable doughnuts with friends.
I am from the memorable playground
whose protecting dog statue hasn’t greeted our eyes in years.
I am from the soccer ball slowly rolling from my feet into the goal,
the long, stressful minutes afterward,
and finally the cheers of my teammates, overjoyed with our victory.
I am from sad or upbeat chants Hebrew words gliding through the air,
amens reverberating off the walls,
and the gorgeous Mezuzah’s,
lying in the doorways,
each one decorated differently,
but for the same goal,
to remind us.
I am from a petite town containing unforgettable memories and people.
A town called Wayland.
I am from 8PM weekend TV,
listening to the contestants interviews,
covered in blankets on the couch,
watching dancers gracefully leap through the air.
I am from Friday car rides with my mom to rooms covered with books,
some classics, some new,
all for curious children to learn and to discover.
I am from exquisite stories shared by my loving parents,
who remember the tales like initials carved into wood.
I am from the sweet, warm scent of mac’n cheese while I balance paper on my lap,
receiving writing tips from my dad,
and furiously scribbling down all the ideas swirling through my head.
I am from exciting visits to various ice cream places,
the coolness and sugary taste of German Chocolate Cake,
and Mint Chip,
flooding my mind, allowing me no restraint,
when my ice cream’s ready.
I am from Taylor Swift songs blasting from the radio or phones,
and tuning in to “Folklore” as I try to sleep on vacations.
I am from my sisters cozy hugs,
hours of playing together,
and sorting rubber ducks into organized, equal groups.
I am from 8PM weekend TV,
my sister critiquing the hosts’ outfit,
my parents commenting on the judges ‘ rude criticism.
I am from family.
I am from amazing activities that fill me with delight, adding even more fun to my day
I am from upbeat music,
notes pirouetting through my head like ballerinas,
creating beautiful harmonies, and funky beats.
I am from songs refusing to leave my mind as I try to hold back from humming.
I am from annoying chores,
singing broadway songs,
watching my wet paper towel dance across the table.
I am from desperately trying to wiggle my fingers on each string,
listening for the sweet sound of vibrato on my violin.
I am from shuffles and flaps,
teachers who yell “5,6,7,8,”
and the satisfying sound of my joyful taps to the marvelous music.
I am from fantastical stories flowing from my imagination onto the page,
creating magical worlds and characters with just a few words.
I am from the happy sensation when I step onto the stage,
lights gleaming, the audience’s attention focused on me,
as I prepare for my line.
I am from the “Bang!” as a slightly dulled yellow softball ricochets off my bat,
and into the field,
as I hurriedly dash to first base.
I am from amazing activities that fill me with bliss and the excitement of doing what I love
I am from an amazing town called Wayland.
I am from my caring family, always there when things get tough.
I am from all of the activities that light up my day, more than I can list.
I am from experiences and memories.
I am from places and people.
I am from big gestures, massive kindness.
I am from little memories, and tiny moments,
but no matter the size, setting, or shape……
They are where I’m from.
