Plows and Letter Head

"Sometimes I think country music has all the right ideas," he said, looking up from textbooks.

"Oh?" She never even knew he listened to country music.

"Yeah," he stood up, as if seeing everything in his mind. "I just think how nice it would be to work with my hands all day, happy to make an honest living, really create something in the heat and the sun."

Her eyes watched him in awe, both of them lost in his passion. "Come inside as the evening falls-" he continued, "tired, sore, dirty, sun burnt- and pick up my daughter in one arm as she runs to greet me, take my wife in the other, kiss them both, and walk to the dinner table with the people I love most."

"I didn't know you wanted to have kids." She was almost breathless, and spoke with a quiet yearning.

He sat back down and thoughts danced across his face like so many dreams forgotten in a lifetime.

"I fucking hate country."