Volume 7 Issue 6

Plain People

“We’re different folk, our family.” Ma says, kneeling beside her parrot’s cage, pushing sunflower seeds through wire bars. 

My great great grandmother came down to Texas from Tennessee over a hundred years ago. She stopped her wagon on grey land at the base of Tornado Alley and built a farm. Since then my family has been stuck between oil rigs and cattle ranches. We’re not really farmers, not native to the land.

I think we stay mostly for the heat.