Memories

Strath Haven Middle SchoolLiterary Magazine

June, 2011

I am from the leash outside wrapped around a bush,From the old dirty table that holds memories of outside dinners,From the tree that blooms beautiful pink flowers,Whose petals fall down like a snowstorm in the springI am from the viburnum bush at my old house that my dog would get tangled up inI am from the tree in my Grandmother’s house with cd’s on the branchesFrom the soft light they threw from the sun.I am from baggy sweatshirts handed down from person to personEach person has a different story about it.I am from Meg, Mike, Margret Lucey and Margret McKenna who became a MaguireThey gave me my name, Lucey McKenna.I am from healers and arguers,From “Are we there yet?” coming from the back of the car.I am from playing with my twinPlaying with only our imaginations,I am from many places in the world but they all melt down to make me…me,I am from hearing my dad’s voice over the phone, day there, night here.I am from musicAnd the extraordinary power it has of bringing people together,From the droning of the bagpipes, and the iPod playing.I am from fightsTearing us apart and then bringing us back together,I am from plane rides and car ridesThe traveling…always travelingI am from booksThat feed my imagination I am from my homeNot the solid foundation but my family,I am from laughterFrom inside jokesI am from loveThe never ending love.

-Lucey Maguire

I am from my mother and father,From Alexis and Geoff.I am from the big yellow house with green shutters.I am from an open backyard and beautiful garden full of flowers.I am from Barbara and Ken.I am from hot days and cool nights in southern California.I am from palm trees in my Grandmother’s backyard,

From the Pasadena Rose bowl and the vineyards near my Grandfather’s houseIn Napa Valley.I am from freezing nights in the Sierra Nevada’s.I am from ski slopes overlooking Lake Tahoe.I am from small restaurants in Truckee.I am from Dolores and Roland.I am from across the state in Delaware.I am from a cute little house with a very long and steep driveway.I am from Rattle Snake Mountain in New HampshireI am from floating docks in Squam lake, from forest green polos, and Capture the flag with no boundaries. I am from “no wristbands rule!”From Dining Hall, to The Zodiac, I am from Rockywold Deephaven Camps.I am from a long line of chocolate loving peopleI am from my family who will always love me.

–Brynn Anderson

I am from the fingers on the keyboardI am the butt in the chairI am the essence in the classroomI am the lonely soul in the hallwayI am the laces on my shoe, holding myself togetherI am the leaves on the tree which I stare at when I am boredI am the memories in my brainI am my family and friendsI am the sound of the music coming out of my iPodI am the rain pitter pattering on my tin roofI am the grades in schoolI am the marker on the whiteboardI am the voice calling out to my fellow classmatesI am the letters of this poemI am the bun of my life and you are the wiener that fits insideI am this poemI am Nicol Drubay!!!

-Nicol Drubay

I am from sticky, sweet pine trees and picnic tablesI’m from that little red bench with the peeling paintI’m from paw prints and daisy chainsBlue jeans and flip-flopsI am from salty beach winds and sunburned shouldersPromises and secrets and long lasting friendshipsI’m from princesses and pirate shipsI’m from freeze tag and tennis lessonsI’m from backyard shows and fairy housesI’m from picture books to novelsCut offs to dresses, car seats to shot gunI am from lunch bunch and tricycles

I’m from hikes and camping tripsBurnt marshmallows and oversized sweatshirtsI’m from trying too hard and making mistakesBut knowing my friends will still be thereI’m from two skinned elbows and a proud smileI’m from home-made Halloween costumes and apple pieI’m from rubber band guns and army guysMarker wars and hostages. I’m from mismatched socks and tangled hairI’m from the fantasy section of the libraryI’m from four square in the drivewayI’m from strawberry pie in MayI’m from a tree with a half-rotten ladder pounded up the trunkI’m from piano playing and awful radio singingFrom that first day in spring when you wake up and look out the window and everything’s greenI’m from that second in time when you realize nothing lasts forever.

-Kelly Doyle

I am from small fibers,From waking up early in the morning,From smelling the fresh morning air,Cleaning up the area around me to have space to fold,Starting at 6 and ending at twelve,The result is a dragon,Whose origins are squared,The paper reflective on one side and plain and dull on the back,I am the ink inside the pen,I am from beaches, From the sand between my toes,From the beached whalesAlways finding the humor in everythingFrom going to the movies,And making my own.

-Bryn Fox

I am from flimsy cardboard packing boxes containing tons of VCR home videos, whichCould be gotten to by crawling behind an overstuffed orange chair and prying the thinWooden doors of the cabinet that they were kept in open.I am from the closet bed and hammock in Cape Cod.I am from paint covered shirts, grass-stained shorts, and scraped knees.I am from the tree forts behind the shed and around the ash tree.I am from throwing tissue paper confetti on New Year’s Eve.I am from surviving in the wild for hours until the gradually darkening sky forces me to accept help from friendly explorers and their tomato soup.

I am from escaping evil villains by swinging from treetops and leaping from house roofs,In cold pouring rain.I am from sprinting up and down driveways in pouring rain,And I am from reading in tree houses.I am from swinging on the plastic brown swing at the Brown Swing Park, and then climbing over fallen logs in the forest next to it.I am from holiday treasure hunts, and elaborately carved birthday cakes.I am from being lulled to sleep by garden plans and sports statistics,From getting up extra early to decorate the house on birthdays, and from napkin notes every day for lunch.I am from an old swing set with broken swings repeatedly being replaced turning from a Pirate ship to a donut factory, to a Cirque de Soleil stage.I am from sidewalk chalk and football games,Neosporin and Motrin, from jumping to answer phone calls, and from pouring liquid Soap all over the bathroom and kitchen floors to slide on.I am from climbing trees to make wrapping paper fashion shows on Christmas,From climbing rocks in Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico, to kayaking in Maine.I am from Winnie the Pooh and Junie B. Jones, Goonie Bird Green and Cam Jansen,Artie the Donut and Lady Lollypop the pig.I am from designing inventions to save the world, and idolizing Leonardo De Vinci.I am from baking chocolate chip cookies without chocolate chips, creating theories aboutColor and perception, and making potions with shampoo and soap.I am from tri-cycling in tutus to playing in sandboxes with neighbors in velvet dresses.I am from picking dandelions at Crum Creek, to digging for plastic treasure in sandboxes.I am from spying on book club meetings to going on secret missions.I am from blowing dandelion wishes to cart-wheeling across fields.I am from climbing hay piles to photographing particularly gorgeous chairs, fromShampooing my Barbies’ hair and then beheading them to make sculptures to rescuing my Stuffed animals from my attacking dogs.

-Eleda Fernald

I am from thousands of berries littering the ground,From cherry blossom petals tumbling through the air and swings.

I’m from the wide open space in front of sturdy apartments,The cherry blossom tree that embraces the sky,Always flinging pink petals into the air, showing its joy.I am from the smell of rice on a warm nightIt’s aroma beckoning me to draw closerI am from know-it-alls and over-achievers who know nothing of ‘limits’With the philosophy of ‘Words mean nothing, it’s the actions that count’Drilled constantly into my mindI am from the rich culture of ChinaFrom Forbidden Cities and never-ending WallsLessons about a mysterious language carved into meI’m from ‘Not even the sky is the limit’ and ‘A picture is worth a thousand words’I’m from endless tree climbing in the summerDoing stunts that could have only been dangerousI am from loose strings of old friendship braceletsFrom singing Chinese songs in the sunsetMelodies of a child who knew only happiness-at that timeI’m from old textbooks, scattered around a classroomA musty smell of antique dangling in the airFrom a beloved teacher departing for homeSounds of students weepingBut the tears didn’t bring back muchI’m from picture frames scattered through the houseEach snapshot a moment in timeEach telling their own story about a moment to treasureFrom old, decaying address booksWith the names of long forgotten friends

-Rochelle Yang

I am from the salty sea air that blew in my hair as I tumbled in the soft sandI am from Rhode Island clam chowders and lobster bisqueI am from the steep steps that lead to a better lifeI am from the dandelions and buttercupsI am from the lazy days lying beneath a shady tree, failing to make a crown of flowersI am from the races of the beachAnd the fast melting ice cream cones dripping onto the boardwalkI am from the quiet days all by myself staring at the rainAnd from the loud days running around the city with the sun shining brightly above my headI am from the overachievers, the nerds, and the athletes.I am from brain-numbing lectures and speeches about respect

I am from the strictest parents who were the perfect little children that I was notI am from impossible requirements and standards sky-highI am from the brilliant grandparents that I could never live up toI am from the “Slow Down”s and the “Give it your 110%”s. I am from the bruises of cartwheels in the green fieldAnd the scratches from climbing that little tree in my backyard with auburn leaves I am from the first places and the last places,The gold medal and the no medalThe disappointments and triumphsI am from the smell of freshly cut grass and dancing in the rainI am from memories repeated over and over until they are imprinted in my brainI am from old-school video tapes and faded photos framed and hungI am from everywhere, a bit of everything, this and that,The good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly;That’s what makes me so unique.

-Sunny Chen

I am from spring airFields shining with cut grass.I am from the morning sunHorizons lit with hope.I am from colorArtwork with my creative hands.I am from a cul-de-sacRiding a two wheeler at two and a half.I am from a high banisterRushing my doll to the hospital.I am from a North America moving truckLoading white boxes.I am from hot summer days

And itchy red dots.I am from road tripsGames of Beaver and Mad Libs.I am from rainy days and blue skies.I am from tents and flashlightsMuffled giggles and whispers.I am from booksReading away the day.I am from lost teethWiggled to their last rootI am from large treesAnd small gardensI am from wishesAnd a fluffy golden puppy.I am from short hair and bangsAnd a floral blue shirt.I am from faithful SundaysAnd elderly family members.I am from the rising sunSetting when the day is done.I am from knowing wherever I goThere will always be more to know.

-Anna Jaoudi

I am from the strong roots of a tree,The murky birdbath,The blue sky. I am from the rusty swing set,The unbalanced hammock,The brown leaves covering the lawn.I am from sandals,From the warm sand in between your toesI am from silver tap heels,And sparkly costumesI am from poets,Air Traffic Controllers,And future presidentsI am from the Nelly’s And the Wally’sI am from Mother NatureWhat I called the tree in front of NPEThat has now been replacedI am from the textbooks,The math books,And finally the yearbooksI am from the brown eyesAnd the hazel eyes,The in betweenI am from cornfields,And the farmersI am from the brainiacs,And the beautiesI am from the gems,And the jewels.

-Jillian Schneider

My Heritage

Where I come from the people dance away pain.Where I come from it is not about how rich or poor you are.Where I come from you don’t have war.Where I come from the grass is greener.Where I come from you don’t get judged on looks but by the content of your charcter.Where I come from there are no nuclear power plants.Where I come from there are no fancy cars.Where I come from it is beautiful.Where I come from is the home of dance.Where I come from everybody dances.Where I come from soccer is called futbol.Where I come from is the motherland.Where I come from is Africa. --Koron Richardson

I am from hills,From empty spaces of grass rustling in the wind.I am from yellow hair balls drifting across the grass,While my dog bathes in the sunshine.I am from the cherry tree stump in the yard,Always set for a tea party.I am from chlorine and floral tiles,Always splashing,Forever swimming.From back flips and dives,A three year old “mermaid”.I am from creaky attics, With white railings colored with crayon.I am from picking and pluckingWild flowers and berries,Raspberry kisses.I am from bodysuits and tights,Telling stories with moves,Feeling the music,Letting go and just…Dancing. I am from libraries full of secrets and stories,Adventures waiting to be read.I am form dreams and from wishes.From hugs and from kisses.From stories and lessons.I am from friends.I am from family.I am from life.

-Laura Donahue

I am from sitting around the fire,From discussions about politics and art.I am from theatre, and music,From guitar, piano and voice.I am from stupid argumentsFrom passive aggressive, from kind.I am from dessert,From cakes, brownies and Hershey’s.I am from holidays at home,From dinner roles, from caroling in the living room.I am from baby dolls and Barbies,From sleepovers and play dates.I am from friends,From CHUCKIE! And twinnies.I am from procrastinationFrom waiting until the last second. I am from dog bites, From Poohie, Gracie, and Stella.I am from summer camping trips,From lake swims at night and s’moresI am from cameras,From blogs and books and movies. I am from elephants,From green, blue and pink.I am from Oprah at four,From belting “Annie” in my bedroom.I am from insecurities,From mistakes but not regrets.I am from imperfections,I am from me.

-Daisy Getz

Where I’m From

I am from warm hands and cold ones,

They hold onto each other and keep one safe at night

I am from bed frames meant to be perched on,

By the little birdie girl who sleeps in the crowded

room.

I am from warm summer breezes through tall, mighty

trees.

The smell of fresh timber.

The roar of the old man’s saw.

I am from grandfather’s jokes by the lamplight.

From cold sea water on the sand bank,

Near the children who explore beneath the waves into

a world much different than our own.

I am from silent days on a colorful hammock,

It drifts peacefully from side to side at the whim of

the man.

I am from beautiful flowers grown by a woman

whose love is stronger than stone.

I am from that woman.

I call her mother

I call her home.

-Emily Harkness

I Am From…

I am from the beginning and many endings.

From starting but never finishing.

From living on the edge…

In a safety ball that won’t let you fall.

I am from closed doors and lonely beds,

From time ticking and rainy days

From single bus stops

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

But who are you waiting to come?

Where I am from, people don’t live—

They exist.

I am from fairy tales to 500 page non-fiction books,

Notebooks, papers and pencils.

From writing everything down, and then forgetting

you wrote it down.

“A picture speaks a thousand words, but a book tells

more” is where I’m from.

I am from a world of possibilities,

but finding the key to open the door is harder than it

sounds.

From a thousand keys that all open the same door,

But the one key that will open your door is under

your nose,

You just aren’t allowed to find it yet.

I am from working your way to the top,

But only just to fall back down below where you just

were.

From climbing higher each time you fall,

Because you want better.

From being right—

Because the word “wrong” isn’t in my dictionary.

I am from being you,

And staying unprejudiced.

I am from me,

And not knowing how to “be from”.

I am from nowhere,

yet somewhere is where my body is from.

My soul is not from here.

I am from thoughts scrambled,

But trying to stay focused.

I am from excuses… excuses… excuses.

I am from originality, even though my life is a mix of

different lives.

I am from knowing what your life will be in 20 years,

But not knowing what to do next.

I am from forgetting what you want to do,

And starting over.

From getting a fresh slate,

Bringing yourself to a beginning

That you always wanted.

I am from experiences that bring you pain,

And a life that will only make you stronger.

I am from memories you shouldn’t relive,

But also from memories that you can’t relive.

I am from nowhere.

My body is from somewhere.

My family is from the accents and the ravens.

I am from nowhere,

But how?

If I am from nowhere,

Where is all this?

I am from nowhere

My body is from somewhere

My mind is from the deep

My soul is from my experiences

I live not for the past,

But I have to remember,

I live not for the present,

For it sets a burden…

I live for the future,

For it has new ideas and new creations,

Waiting ahead.

I am from experiences that will happen.

-Gwen Newton

Where I’m From…

I’m from “Lost Socks” Saturdays at the local laundry

mat

I’m from mud pies, leaf-made gifts, and bee stings

I’m from hand-me-downs to discount designer to

vintage

I’m from parents from Fenway Park and Yankee

Stadium

I’m from lost memories and fun times only

documented by our minds

I’m from the bagillion pictures stored at the back of

my grandmother’s closet in a dusty hatbox

I’m from times that were hard but were the happiest

for me

I’m from missing data in my heritage tree

I’m from the storytellers of Native Americans and

drummers of Africans

I ‘m from the desperate search of acceptance in

places not belonging

I’m from the top of my head down to the soles of my

feet

I’m from the Teletubbies, Power Puff Girls and

Totally Spies

I’m from Saturday morning cartoons, unfrosted

Poptarts, and orange juice

I’m from barefoot fishing exhibitions in the creek

nearby

I’m from hot summers, creek side rocks, and Day’s

soda

I’m from the body of Christ

I’m from maturity and grace for the forefront of my

family

I’m from foot-washing Baptists

I’m from the wondrous firework shows of Virginia

I’m from mosquitoes, white, plastic lawn chairs and

charcoal scented backyards

I’m from the fear of sitting in the beautifully carved

mahogany grandfather chair

I’m from melted Barbie dolls in the sun with a wax

smell along the play bin

I’m from unfortunate encounters with okra

I’m from the little pedals of a tricycle

I’m from strawberry ice cream instead of chocolate

cake

I’m from floating backwards freestyle to breaststroke

I’m from being in the world but not of the world.

-Gianna Smith

I Am From Memories

I am from Bob Marley and boardwalk ice cream

I am from dancing under the stars and catching

fireflies in the palm of my hand

I am from climbing trees and picking apples

I am from hopscotch and sidewalk chalk

I am from little crushes that turn into broken hearts

I am from baking with Grammy and getting to lick

the spoon

I am from following my big cousins and teaching my

little

I am from being a little elf, hanging ornaments,

wrapping presents, spreading Christmas joy

I am from summer, building drippy sandcastles and

swimming like a mermaid

I am from hating goodbyes and trying not to trust the

lies

I am from frolicking through the rain and catching

snowflakes on my tongue

I am from best friends and bracelets and goodnight

kisses

I am from butter flowers and dandelions

I am from country music and Lancaster shopping

sprees

I am from dance… moving, thinking, interpreting,

loving

I am from Mario Party 3

I am from Reggae

I am from wishing the same thing every time the

clock strikes 11:11

I am from loving everyone for who they are and not

what they look like

I am from Michael Jackson and the Rolling Stones

I am from loving that little kitten like my own sister

I am from divorced parents

I am from listening to people’s situations and trying

to help

I am from being scared of the dark, having daddy and

mommy check for the monsters under my bed

I am from summer breeze and palm trees

I am from orange roses and blow up pools

I am from moving and hating change

I am from drinking tea and reading in the fall

I am from Memories

- Madelaina Murphy

I Am From…

I am from the old wooden swing set,

Creaking loudly in the swift breeze.

I am from the butterfly garden,

Blossoming flowers,

Colors everywhere.

I am from the tall pine trees,

Strong and fresh smelling.

I am from the steaming pasta dishes,

Sausage and meatball filled plates,

Gravy covering it all.

I am from eight kids, and two loving parents.

I am from “traditional followers”,

And “go-with-the-flow” relaxers.

I am from “do it, you won’t”,

And “got it right here” speakers.

I am from soccer players,

Running on the freshly cut green,

Dew dropped grass.

I am from Italian traditions,

With big meals and a huge family.

I am from raising chicks as classroom projects.

I am from old photo albums,

Filled with cherished memories of the past,

With blank pages,

Just waiting to be filled

With experiences to come.

-Angela Ianello

Where I’m From

I am from the windy city,

Blowing my hair back and forth.

I am from neighborhood games,

Playing outside until dark.

I am from falling down,

But always getting back up.

I am from weeding the garden,

Searching for insects.

I am from crawling under my deck,

While playing hide and go seek.

I am from eating blackberries on summer days.

I am from intricate ankle bracelets.

I am from Clem and Susan.

I’m from organizers, continuers,

From jokers and chatterboxes.

I am from winners never quit,

And quitters never win.

-Anonymous