I grew up barefoot in the sand.
Avoiding cactii and scorpions which each delicate step.
I grew up with soft waves lapping and caressing my body.
Fresh water cleansing me like no baptism could.
I grew up in the dead of a white, white winter.
I grew up in the sleepless heat of a scorching endless summer.
I grew up here.
And I grew up there.
I grew up sleeping in my parents’ bed.
And I grew up by venturing into his.
I grew up when I found my own.