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the old house that stands alone in the weedy grass.

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The scenery of Irvington and waves of the Hudson

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The sound of birds chirping outside my window, and cooking breakfast with my grandma.

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The laughter coming through the walls

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the smell of food lingering in the air

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waking up to my dogs barking

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Dogs barking, to loud bangs from the laundry machine

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The smell of home cooked dinners on school nights

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christmas cookies and movie nights with my cousins

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a fifth floor apartment with walls thin enough to hear everyone's laughs.

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the sound of a cannonball in a quiet pool

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not knowing how to write a three to climbing a tree

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a rusty menorah, a century old.

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the stories of my dads grandma saying "don't get near that lake until you learn how to swim"

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I am from Independence and hard workers

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I am from the sounds of my fathers guitar playing and the scent of my mothers candles