I am from the soft screams of kids playing

throughout a sunny summer day.

I am from the melting melody of the ice cream truck

slowly getting louder as I linger impatiently with four quarters in my palm.

I am from the fresh flesh wounds caused by flips off my bike,

and hearing the saying “rub some dirt on it” after frantically fleeing back to my dad.

I am from the competitive pick up basketball games in my friends driveway,

Ending with an argument over which team won.

I am from being reminded I have to work for what I want,

And that life won’t be handed to me.

I am from mowing my neighbors lawn every week

and biking to McDonald’s to buy a quarter pounder with the money I’d earned.

I am from the burnt smell of charcoal during our neighborhood grill outs,

And playing baseball across the street as all of our parents drank on our porch.

I am from all these memories that I reminisce on frequently,

But sadly since my Dads passed I’ve had no reason to come back and make more.