Moment Three: Perspective
“You’re not convincing, mister. Pull up a cushion and sit with me.” She patted the dirt. “I will only make you work if you tell me falsies!” Nieve parented by working the truth out of her children. “This junk must go. If grass isn’t planted before fall, spring rains will erode what’s left of this yard,” she said.
“Mom, why are we here?” asked Driew, surveying the junkyard home to avoid eye contact.
“Wow! That’s a deep question for a young man,” said Nieve.
“Here, Kentucky, cleaning this worthless farm! Can’t we sell it?” he asked, dropping onto a damp, weathered cushion.
“Your dad and I explained the numerous letters stating ‘the farm is an eyesore to the community.’ It’s been for sale for ten years, but no one wants to invest time in a junkyard home,” she said. “We had neglected this place. Now, she needs us. Anyway, who sees this place?”