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I Am From My Homes Away From Home
I am from spending my summers in foreign places: South Dakota, Colorado, West Virginia. Substandard cell phone service, sleeping in high school classrooms, stiff sleeping mattresses.
I am from five in the morning wake up calls, and ten at night strict “lights out” commands.
Living out of a suitcase, germ infested locker room showers, community style bathrooms.
I am from eight hour days repairing a strangers home.
Paint covering my farmers tan arms and legs, blackened hands and knees from repairing a roof.
I am from worshiping Him along with 400 strangers.
Hard working hands risen in the air, tears streaming down bronzed faces, arms swaddled around one another.
I am from thirteen hours of driving, traveling far and wide.
Fifteen young adults crammed like sardines into what seemed like a microscopic van.
I am from arguing with my best friends, who gets the window seat and who gets the aisle.
Fuzzy blankets, flattened pillows, and tangled headphones piled into a compact space.
I am from cafeteria style meals.
Microscopic portions, sub-par food, sitting ten to a table.
I am from these summer trips with my life long best friends.
Campers in my work crew saying: “Live in the moment and don’t worry about the future”.
I am from taking pictures to capture each moment.
A collection of polaroids in my suitcase.
I am from prayers each night before bed.
Blessing each other, discussing the message used throughout each day.
I am from sneakily going on my phone before bed time.
Under the covers, barely able to breathe.
I am from sore muscles at the end of each day.
Easy to fall asleep, hard to wake up.
I am from stepping out of my comfort zone for the summer.
Learning to live with an open mind and open heart.
I am from being inspired by others.
Living in each moment, learning new skills.
I am from my homes away from my home.
Homesick yet feeling right at home.
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