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Sweet smells of honeysuckle and berries needing to be picked,
Fields miles in length full of cat tails and sapphire blue flowers,
Green rolling hills with cows grazing near the water hole,
Sailboats passing through the river across the street...
All of these are memories of home.
Chasing after the end of the rainbow through the fields
with my cousin and friends,
Making home-made jelly with Nana
with berries picked from the back yard,
All the snow ball fights with my brother,
Running around during a rain storm with my friends singing,
The "Family and Friends" lemonade stand we had every year
so we could have enough money for ice cream
when the ice cream truck came around,
The smell of cedar coming out of the shop as Papa made our toy boxes,
Picking cucumbers out of the garden to can them
and make them into pickles,
Spending a whole day just to make pizza from scratch,
All the times going fishing with Papa and not catching anything,
But we still loved it because it was time spent with him,
All the backyard baseball games...
No matter how long I'll be gone I'll always remember
that New York is my home.
