Deep in the heart of Virginia, there's a small town called Pound. Many believe that the name pound came from people who would bring their grain to be pounded at the mill so many years ago. Some believe the town was named Pound because the Indians would pound their horses into the valley to round them up. But when I heard my family's story, the Civil War, Lincoln, and a love so strong, it carried them through loss. I felt the love that created a legacy beat within my soul. I quivered at the fear that ripped a nation apart. I think of the war and the blood that painted green fields red, and I feel that rhythm.

Whatever the reason, the town was called Pound, a mill, or horses does not explain that beat in my chest. I believe the name came from life. Those moments when our hearts beat to something we can't see, but it's something that will change us forever. I remember them, and I feel their extreme fear. Then, I feel the love that made them resilient, and my heart pounds differently, knowing I, too, could make it through. It's the old courage that runs through new veins. Historic dreams manifested in current times. They didn't know me, but they had a dream for me. When their bodies faded from this world, their hearts never stopped beating. They just pound in our chests now. They created a rhyme that I will forever dance to in the storm.