By Justin Perry

I’m from a sunset over a cornfield. Stars seen for miles.

I’m from neighbors you aren’t afraid to drop in on.

I’m from sitting on porches on summer nights, watching the occasional car go by. Knowing who’s in the driver seat. A porch light “welcome sign beckoning passerby to sit a spell.

I’m from Marlboro Reds smoldering in a melted black ashtray. Virginia Slims with gaudy red lipstick stains.

I’m from Friday night football games. The gridiron ends where the soybeans begin. Everyone’s there.

I’m from barn parties. Make out sessions in a hayloft. Maybe more if you’re lucky.

I’m from crushed Bud Lite cans melting in a bonfire. Flannel blankets with friends. A brown paper bag of Jim Beam being passed.

I’m from unironically retro diners. Old men at counters with newspapers. Lying about their lives as they flirt with White Rain scented waitresses who didn’t know they peaked twenty years ago.

I’m from old white churches with dirt parking lots full of trucks. Praying for rain.

I’m from long abandoned farms. Random fence posts with ancient barbed wire. Old farmsteads. Names long forgotten.

I’m from beat up pickup trucks passing bullet ridden signs. Girlfriends cuddled up on bench seats on a Saturday night.

I’m from roaming the aisles of Walmart as entertainment. You’ll find a friend doing the same.

I’m from impromptu concerts by bands named after the lead singer’s drink of choice. Dad Rock before Dad Rock was a thing. Twangy off tune guitars and singers that know just enough to be dangerous.

I’m from dirt crusted denim and dusty trucker hats. Boots you leave on the porch all year.

I’m from John Deere tractors in High School Parking lots. Rusted out trucks with cattle catchers. Bigger the bumper, the more the chicks dig it.

I’m from a man…

I’m from a man with old, blown-out tattoos. I copied them.

I’m from a man who scared me. He was loud. Quick to yell, but just as quick to cry.

I’m from a man who taught me honesty and integrity.

I’m from a man who was born white trash, but who built himself into someone worthy of respect.

I’m from a man who worked every day. He did not know a sick day.

I’m from a man who taught me to believe in something greater than myself, even when he and I didn’t agree on what god was.

I’m from a man who was always there, even when I didn’t deserve it.

I’m from a man who never gave up on me, even when I gave up on him.

I’m from a man who, in my thirties, could still make me feel safe. Even when I’ve long since gotten bigger and stronger than he will ever be.

I’m from a man who taught me never to give up, even when I thought there was no hope.

I’m from a man who welcomed me back like the prodigal son.

I’m from a man who forgave.

I’m from a man who I thought had days to live, but has somehow made it over a month.

I’m from a man who taught me to be a man.

I love you dad. I promise I won’t waste my second chance at life, and I’ll do what I can to make you proud.