St. Louis, MO.
After my grandparents past away, we inherited a sideboard which promptly found its home in our dining room. As it came into our home, it was shared with me that the piece was built in the early 19th century by slaves in Mississippi. The sideboard was my first real knowledge that my ancestors were slave owners. Despite its ornate woodwork and beautiful craftsmanship, it stood as gravestone in my childhood home, constantly remaining me of my grandparents death, the lives my ancestors came from, and the deep pains caused by my last name. It is to be left to me next. I do not look forward to this day nor the circumstances that will bring it again into my home.