I am from the crisp, cool breeze
dancing with the glowing flames of the fire on a fall night.
From the rich smell of smoke that follows.
And from the thick oversized flannel shirts to match.

I am from a lifetime of country music.
From a time when that first swear word slipped.
And from the sizzling of eggs on the stove at the crack of dawn.

I am from the creaking and moaning
played by the basement stairs.
From the movie marathons with the family,
Scott, Lisa, and Colton.

I am from laughter, snorting, and gasping for air.
From the hilarious, yet questionable, dinner conversations.
And from the powerful burps that let us know mom is finished eating.

I am from the struggles of firing a yellow
ball over the plate in the blazing heat of the sun.
From the time where it was almost more than I could handle.

I am from mounds of chocolate swirl at 3:00pm on a weekday.
From mid calf leather boots, a helmet, and a motorcycle.
And from exhausting nights of wrestling with dad.

I am from the crisp, cool breeze,
not just dancing with the flames of the fire,
but providing something more than silence.