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.