Where I'm from, when Donald Trump was elected to office, distraught tears blew in with the dreary weather outside, and three of my teachers gave me hugs as my classmates and I discussed the future of our country.

Where I'm from, my home is a few blocks away from my best friends, and my mom's whole extended family lives within a mile radius of my yellow house on the north side.

Where I am from, fall walks are my favorite things and raking the colorful piles onto the curb take hours on end.

Where I'm from, taco nights are frequent, and summer BBQs with most of my extended family happen more than twice a week. The Fourth of July is a hallowed holiday, and following our red, white, and blue traditions are as sacred as the tabernacle in my childhood church and 11:15 mass on Sundays.

Where I am from, I walked to and from school, and eating out at lunch in high school involved squeezing 11 people in a overflowing car, while blaring country music as we loudly shouted about our day.

Where I am from, an "el" train stop is a few stops away, and trips downtown to Wow Bao and the art institute are as commonplace as toasting smores in the dilapidated fire put in my backyard every summer.

Where I am from, I could jog my running route with my eyes closed, as my feet would know their way across cracked sidewalks and gaping potholes, and I know my favorite house on each block I trek.

Where I am from, my mom went to my high school, and my grandparents still live in the house where my mom and her 4 siblings grew up, living a life so close to mine in high school.

Where I am from, my friends hypothesize that I will come back to my hometown, settle down, and raise a family amidst the liberal bunch of "hippies" that make up my home.

To me, this is a compliment and an insult - melded together in a statement I am both scared of and excited about.

Where I am from, it brings to mind comfort and familiarity, and an abundance of memories that bring the warmth of taking the first sip of hot chocolate in the pit of my belly.

Maybe one day, I will look back and be living in a different country - teaching my children a different language, or somewhere on the west coast, having long since forgotten what Chicago winter winds off the lake feel like.

Fast forward 10 years, and I am excited to see what kind of life I'll be living.