Encountering Narrative through Poetry: “History of Me”


Georgia O'Brien '22, Contributing Writer

Mrs. McGowen’s eighth grade history class began the school year writing poems that reveal each student’s personal narrative history. Georgia O’Brien ’22 shared her “History of Me” poem for publication.

I come from zone 10 at a hospital in Guatemala City, Guatemala.

I come from a birth mother who cared about me very much, and gave me strength and warmth.

I come from a warm, stuffy, small scent filled room, into the fresh open air.

I come from my young, loving birth mothers arms, into the adoption agency, and my name on the crowded, multiple professional papers.

I come from my birth mother’s arms and into my foster mothers arms.

I come from months, weeks, and days of waiting in my cozy, small crib and my foster mother’s comfortable lap and loving arms, for the right family to take me to a new home.

I come from my house, and my crib that I lived in, into my foster mother’s arms and into a car on the busy bumpy roads to the adoption agency.

I come from my foster mother’s arms, into stranger’s arms who I instantly loved, and those strangers turned out to be my new parents.

I come from many visits by my new family, where they cried happy tears, smiled, kissed, and hugged me waiting until they could take me home as their own.

I come from the trading of my tiny fashionable clothes and blankets, from my foster mother into my father’s arms.

I come from saying goodbye to my foster mother at six months old, into a busy, large airport in Guatemala city, and onto a plane heading to the United States.

I come from a large plane full of cries, and silence up high in the clouds, as I sit on my new fathers lap.

I come from my father’s tight arms wrapped around me, as I lay on his warm chest and feel and listen to his heartbeat as I fall asleep.

I come from him falling asleep with me on his chest the rest of the ride home, as my new mommy smiles.

I come from a stuffy plane and into the United States.

I come from my new family of two, to a family of many happy, loving, relieved people.

I come from a poor city, to a town in Massachusetts called Franklin and go into an actual house with heat, food, and fresh, running water.

I come from my first birthday party with mom and dad’s friends, celebrating me coming home.

I come from years of playing with the puppy and kitties, rolling around on the play room floor with daddy, and playing dress up.

I come from trips to Disney, with mommy and daddy, as I’m on top of his shoulders looking for our favorite Disney character Goofy.

I come from a move from my Franklin house, to my new house in Medway.

I come from playing for hours on my new playground built for me by dad.

I come from riding on my dad’s lap on his wheelchair with lights on the wheels.

I come from rides down the halls of my first school, pre school, to my classroom on my dad’s lap.

I come from visits to the hospital, watching Dora on daddy’s lap and eating mac and cheese.

I come from saying goodbye for good to my daddy, with tears running down everyone’s face.

I come from having two parents, to having one.

I come from not understanding why daddy isn’t coming home for years, and crying in moms lap.

I come from my first years in pre school, meeting Smokey the bear, when he visited my school and told us stories.

I come from an elementary school full of new faces and new friends.

I come from my 10th birthday celebration at a sushi place in Rhode Island, just mom and I with dad in our hearts, celebrating double digits.

I come from many summers at PDC singing in the rain, splashing in the pool,playing soccer, and camping in the woods.

I come from my big house in Medway, right behind the community white church, to a smaller house in Franklin, after a few years now that it’s just mom, the pets and I.

I come from playing dress up with my 12 American Girl Dolls, and their horses, bed sets, and bath sets that they had.

I come from a familiar school in Medway, to a whole new school in Franklin in the middle of third grade.

I come from John F. Kennedy school chorus to the Honors chorus.

I come from elementary school to a middle school.

I come from being bullied, and talked about at school every day, coming home and just doing my work and being sad.

I come from a public school to an all girls, open, diverse,private school in Medfield in 6th grade.

I come from meeting my best friends, who I love more than anything, seeing them everyday, and laughing with them about random stuff in the hallways.

I come from plaid green and red kilts, and sweaters, rolled skirts, knee high socks and a messy decorated locker, to summer.

I come from a pool party welcoming the incoming accepted students for 7th grade.

I come from meeting a girl just as crazy as me, maybe even more, to having a best friend who is like a sister to me by the end of 7th grade.

I come from the end of 7th grade with a fashionista, and who shares the same last name and so much more with me.

I come from a crazy summer, that felt way too short.

I come from a special camp in Minnesota for kids adopted from Latin America called La Semana.

I come from that camp, I move on with my summer, and I have so much fun.

I come from the doors of school, into the 8th grade, as being a role model for the middle school.

I come from a year of best wishes, great friends who I literally call my sisters, and great teachers with a loving and positive attitude and a new uniform.

I come from my first week at school, ready to rock my last year of middle school.