Where I Am From

I am from the perfectly created peanut butter jelly sandwich, from Heinz tomato ketchup, and barbeque and grass stained t-shirts.

I am from the quiet, country, gravel roads of Bice’s Run.

From the tricks taught by Bub and the fact that the Earth is actually round.

I am from the teachings of respect and courteousness. Knowing anything but wouldn't make Mom proud.

I am from the muddy route traveled only by drivers in their race cars, the roar of revving engines heard among the solace of a Saturday night.

I am from decades of local dirt track races and greasy hands found in the garage, 

from Pap, Unk, and, of course, Dad.

I am from the laughter at dinner time and the jokes cracked while playing cards and dice.

From the lesson of love that overcame the neglectful hand of cards dealt to my younger brother and the days of his newest life experiences.

I am from the rooms of the Revels’ residence, the rocking, reclining chair cushioned only with Grandma’s legs, and the Christmas time memories found there.