She is from burning her feet on the sand of the beaches in walking distance of her house.
She is from moving cities every three years and exploring new places with pure joy.
She is from parties and chaos.
She is from her father’s fatal heart attack and growing up with only a mother figure.
She is from beauty and wealth.
She is from the deep love-language accent that she passed down to me.
She is from churrasco, guarana, and acai.
She is from love.

He is from first seeing the ocean at eighteen.
He is from road trips to the Grand Canyon and the Alamo. 
He is from backyard football and church on Sundays.
He is from a principal as a father and teacher as a mother.
He is from hard work and getting one new pair of blue jeans every year.
He is from pronouncing “bag” as “baig”.
He is from brats on the grill, a side of fries, and a Coca-Cola.
He is from love.

I am from burning my feet on the sand of Brazilian beaches that we travel annually.
I am from moving cities often and stopping at the Grand Canyon and Alamo along the way.
I am from parties on Saturdays and church on Sundays.
I am from growing up with the a mix of fun and strictness and being reminded how lucky I am to have the parents I do.
I am from being reminded that wealth and beauty will only get you so far without hard work.
I am from translating her accent and laughing at his.
I am from taste buds that know cultures better than a World History teacher.
I am from two worlds that collided to make mine.
I am from love.