I Would Be Nobody

I am from the spiral staircase;
the piggy-back rides to my familiar room
at the end of the hallway.

I am from autumn afternoons
spent learning how to jump rope:
Turn the rope;
step over.
Turn the rope;
step over.

I am from "running shoes" instead of "sneakers" and
"pop" instead of "soda" and
the "eh" after so many sentences,
who would have though that one day those words
would be so strange to another?

I am from the fuzzy memory of the long, packed,
and irritable
drive from Ontario to New Jersey,
the place I now call my home.

I am from losing all hope,
only to find a reason to hope some more;
from losing my dad to the battle of cancer
and realizing he will
always be with me,
some way or another.

I am from hours spent with Scotch-
not the tape,
or the drink,
but my first horse that showed me that
sometimes
all you really need is a friend,
even if all they can do
is listen.

I am from up in the saddle,
where happiness is the gentle
"thud" of my horse's rhythmic steps.

I am from finding the good in the day,
even when it seems like there is none at all.

I am from under a rock;
I never quite keep up with
what's going on around me.

I am from the forgotten memories,
buried long ago
of times that now seem like another life;
memories that are slowly dug up,
every now and then.

I am from learning from the mistakes;
healing from the hurt;

I am from living my life as me;
I can't be sculpted into
a "typical High School girl".

I am from realizing that if I weren't myself,
I would be nobody.