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I am from swing sets, bikes and books, from American Girl and Disney.
I am from the stairs that creak, the floors that feel cold and the kitchen that smells of garlic.
I am from the garden that grew every summer, the apple tree.
I am from Thursday pasta nights at Nana's and stubborness, from Laura and Lauren.
I am from the loud conversations and squeals of laughter.
From eating everything on your plate and cleaning your room.
I am from God, like everything else that exists. Mass on Sundays, Our Father prayers, saints and sinners, white dresses and Jesus on a cross.
I'm from the home of Harvard University, England, Ireland, Germany and Italy too, from potatoes and pasta.
From the meat-cutter who fell in love with a supermarket cashier, the chemical engineer and the stay-at-home mom.
I am from the two-bedroom apartment on the Charles River, the three-bedroom Cape house that Mom fell in love with; from Walt Disney World, Silver Lake and Niagra Falls; from Nana's house and Catholic schools. I am from good times and bad times, but always from love.
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