I’m from the bunk beds that house 12 girls,

from the beaten-down gaga pit and stack of cards.

I’m from the little white cabin on a hill.

Hot, loud, laughter is all around.

I’m from the woods where the purple lilacs grow,

the crystal clear lake which holds my secrets.

I’m from the Saturday night lobster dinners before the big day and the sad goodbyes that come with it.

I am from the tears are normal and it

will go by before you know it.

I’m from “Do your capers!” and “Clean the cabin!”

I’m from Sunday night prayers

and songs sung in the chapel.

I’m from Freedom, NH, sticky chicken,

and mac’n cheese.

From the second round of tears that come with seeing my family and sharing the

great memories I have made.

In my memory box holds

every letter, picture, and postcard I have received

from the best two weeks of summer.

I’m from the place I call home.