DIrt

By Chelsea Buranich

When my family sits down for a meal at the end of the day, the conversation exclusively revolves around dirt.JT

My dad is an excavator, my older brother is a hay farmer, and my younger – an aspiring diesel mechanic. My mom and I are the minority, so when it comes to communal conversation, the boys rule. Growing up in this environment, I have learned a lot about machines, trucks, and digging holes. My dad comes home every night covered in a layer of dust – he digs holes for a living. While it may not seem amazing, he is exceptionally good at his trade.

Growing up in a rural area, surrounded by Massey Fergusons and John Deere’s, it’s funny to see such big machines while in the city. I snap pictures to my dad of the excavators and men doing work alongside the busy streets of Manhattan. Although different, it makes me feel at home. When I smell diesel fuel, I am reminded of my home. My dad. My brothers. My dinner table talk of dirt, hay, and construction.

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