I am from nights of practice.
From the swooshing of the net,
From a scoop of custard after the win.

I’m from the season of spring.
From “giving 110 percent,”
From a touch of the net turning into a dunk of the ball. 

I am from a family that is forgiving after the car gets scratched.
From a family that hates to lose monday night football.
From highfives on the couch after a good play, and screams at the referees. 

I’m from Grandpa’s back yard -- where boring doesn’t exist.
From fishing ponds stuffed with bass and bumpy tractor rides,
From building tree forts and swinging on vines until dinner.

I am from boogie boarding in the salty Sanibel island waters.
From staying up with friends until the sun comes up,
From video games and charades in the basement at family gatherings.

I am from the swooshing of the net.
From a family that hates to lose monday night football,
From building forts and swinging on vines.