I am from an old three bedroom house, a fairly tight and cramped space that expanded to four rooms and became spacious when we moved.
I am from 60-people-parties, thrown in a small house during the holidays, where we would need extra chairs and tables to house everyone.
I am from moth hunting in the basement with my sister, clutching a tweezer to quickly snatch up dead moths and put them in a plastic bag for disposal.
I am from sitting in front of the old boxy TV, playing Super Smash Bros with my siblings on the Nintendo 64, bragging to others about how old and valuable it was now.
I am from mismatched spoons and forks, utensils we would buy at random sales, panicking when we didn’t have any matching ones for a fancy dinner.
I am from cautiously sliding down the curved banister, my heart skipping whenever it creaked, and my mom scolding me for doing something so dangerous.
I am from the time when nearly my whole family was bedridden with the flu, and my older brother had to decipher how to use the stove to cook canned sauce pasta.
I am from broken trampoline nets that were frequently replaced, to prevent people from falling into a bed of rocks like one boy did when he tried to do a flip.
I am from pig-shaped pancake pans, being excited to use it for the first time, but having the final product be no more than a blob of dough.
I am from crying while hiding under a blanket and covering my ears when my older brother playfully forced us to watch scary movies or videos.
I am from stuffed animal kingdoms that would run my room when I was gone, foolishly making imaginary treaties or saving the orange cat princess from literally nothing.
I am from a childhood where I had a five member family that was supportive and kind, laughing at funny things, and helping each other through hard times. From a childhood that changed and shaped who I am today.