The Wheat Fields

by kbooms

Rating: teen
Tags: Big Macintosh, Main 6, Applejack, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Romance
Length: 5291

This here's a story 'bout love, family and a little bit of hardship. Might be it ain't very pretty but it's mine, and I reckon it's about time it was heard.

It ain’t always easy to see where a story starts or ends, even though everypony has one. Sure, there’s Granny’s little anecdotes about the one time when Grandpappy almost left Pa in the marketplace when he was just a little colt, barely able to walk on his own. Then there’s those big stories about the Princesses that span centuries of peace, punctuated with large, but generally short, sparks of unrest. Ones that take eons to see the connections and be able to tell it as history.

My story, though? I think I’m still in it. Makes the telling a mite harder, but I reckon it’s time I told at least a part of it. Used to think it’d never amount to much or be all that important, but now I wonder if it’ll help somepony else in the future. Here's hoping, anyway.

Photo courtesy of my good friend SilverMuse.

Published 2015-03-14 03:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-04-24 01:03:17 UTC

Prologue

Sometimes, when I’m feeling low or otherwise introspective, I come out here to the wheat fields. We only got a dozen or so acres of wheat and corn - a little more’n three times as much wheat as corn, thanks to Miz Pinkie Pie and her pastries - set away from the orchard where they can get some sun. Not many ponies even know it’s here, even though they’d get no apple pies or muffins or sandwiches without it. So it’s quiet and still out here. This is where I tend to do most of my thinking.

Times come when I miss Ma and Pa. AJ and I both like to visit their section of the orchard during some of those times to make us feel close to them again. It’s where their essence still feels strongest to us, I suppose. We set in the rows upon rows of Jonagolds and wonder where it all went wrong or whether we coulda done something. Sometimes we come on our own, and sometimes we come together. We’ve even met up unexpectedly in those familiar rows a time or three.

Times come when I miss them and don’t wanna be close to them. When I’m mad at them for leaving us like they did, intentional or not. There are times I wanna scream and never stop ‘cause of the pain that just don’t seem to go away completely. That’s when I come here.

The wheat’s different than the trees. Everypony knows our affinity for farming apples and it sure is our specialty. The trees are beautiful in their own way. They’re big, strong, patient as rocks… lots of the things ponies say I am.

Lots of ponies think I’m shy. Some think I’m mentally stunted or just not too bright - “nothin’ ‘tween the ears,” as Granny likes to say. All ‘cause I don’t really like to say too much.

I ain’t really any of those things. I’m a normal pony, same as everyone else in this small town. I went to school for a time - afore I had to work the place on my own after Pa… left us. I ain’t a scholar by any means, but I can spell and write and run a ledger just fine and I know how to keep it in the black.

As for being shy, well. I like other ponies just fine, and Ma, Pa and Granny raised us to be right hospitable. Might be I just don’t feel the need to bore anypony with useless small talk about the weather, is all. Granny says real stallions don’t need words and they just show what they mean through their actions. Strong and silent-like. Like Pa. She says that a lot. And a lot of times when AJ hears it she gets a real sad look in her eyes. Kinda like the one she had right afore she left for Manehattan all those years ago.

The wheat ain’t quite ready yet. I can taste the bitterness in the stalk I bit off to chew on - Pa ain’t here to tell me not to chew on the produce anymore, after all. I can still see a bit of green here and there in the fields as the wind flows through the field in small, irregular spurts. I think that’s the thing I like best about the wheat. The slightest breeze will come through and all the stalks’ll bend with it. Don’t know for sure how the wheat feels about it, but the wind don’t hurt it any… and the shimmers of amber and green and gold certainly look mighty fine from where I stand.

Chapter One

It was a fine autumn day, early September, I reckon. I remember it had been a real warm summer, too, so the cooler temperatures had everypony’s spirits (and productivity, incidentally) higher than it had been for a good while. I’d just put in a good day’s worth of bucking, naturally, and I was pleased at the sight of all the apple-filled baskets in my cart. The beginning of Applebuck Season’s always the best part, afore you start to get sick of bucking day in and day out and afore the sight of the apples makes you slightly queasy.

Don’t tell anypony I said that, though.

I really do love farming. It ain’t just that it’s all I’ve ever done and all my entire family back nine or ten generations had ever done. Course, could be that is all it is - that it’s just in my blood like it was in theirs. All that aside, though, farming is hard work. It makes you feel every step, every kick and every swing of your neck. You always know you’ve done something during the day, and it’s always something worthwhile. Everypony's gotta eat, after all. Entire civilizations have collapsed for lack of food. But I’m getting off the subject.

It was just about time to harvest the wheat. I’d been down to those fields a dozen times in the last few days, both to check in on the wheat and to check in on myself. Even farmers have to take care of more than just our bodies. Ain’t no pony living or dead who can honestly say that the mind ain’t just as important, if not more important than the bodies we’re in.

Despite the nice, cool weather having a calming effect on everypony else - or so it seemed - I remember feeling extra pent up that day. Like I could run for the hills on the outskirts of town and just keep running and running ‘til I died. At the same time, there was this extra weight on my chest that I couldn’t move, for all the brute strength everypony says I’ve got, and it was just crushing the air and life from me.

It wasn’t actually the case, of course, but that’s what it felt like.

It ain’t like I never felt it afore that day, either. It’s actually a pretty familiar sensation, even now. No amount of running has ever helped and lifting Pa’s yoke off my chest ain’t taken off the weight, either. It took years for me to figure out what I needed to do to feel better.

Our wheat fields aren’t vast, by any means. Especially not in comparison to the orchard. But they ain’t tiny, either. Just the right size to sustain Ponyville’s need for flour. They’re also the perfect size for me to tend on my own. When I get that running feeling, I make myself move extra slow so I won’t run away with myself. Then I take my sweet time and I stroll on down to the wheat. My wheat. My sanctuary when Pa died and I didn’t want to be around anypony ever again.

So that’s where I found myself that day. Stands to reason that I had my own spot, since I spent so much time down there. It was on the lee side of a good-sized hill, facing Northwest toward the Everfree and the Lonely Mountain. When I’m there, I get one of the best views of the sunset in Ponyville.

Only AJ and Granny know where to find me when I’m here, and Granny ain’t been able to walk this far in ages. So I knew for a fact it was AJ coming to get me, probably for dinner, when I heard hoofsteps in the grass at the top of the hill and hour or so later. The sky was just beginning to display the bright colors of sunset, though I always thought dusk was the best part. I ain’t ever seen the sky turn that nice shade of green any other time of day except dusk.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Pa had been the one to point that out to me years ago.

“Hey Mac.” AJ had finally reached me, but I was still watching the vivid reds, oranges and yellows in the sky. She shuffled her hooves a little in the grass. “Mind if Ah sit?”

I bristled slightly at the question that had never been asked afore, dang near an invasion of privacy - to this day, that field’s probably the most private thing I’ve got. But another split second and I was turning my head to look at her, confused. I’d just noticed the hitch in her voice when she’d gotten to the word “sit” and how her eyes were darting back and forth, a bead of sweat starting to travel down her brow. Honestly, she looked like she was gonna be sick.

“Nope,” I responded slowly.

She sat herself down, not really able to look me in the eye. I fought the smirk threatening to take over my face as I figured out what must be the problem, the tightness vanishing from my chest as I thought more about it.

“You’re sweet on somepony, ain’tcha?” I said, slow and unassuming as ever, my eyes back on the horizon. Always makes her squirm.

A snort came from her muzzle. A little too forced. My small smirk grew.

“Ah ain’t sweet on anypony, Mac, you know that.” I could almost hear her roll her eyes.

I turned slowly and levelled an unconvinced look at her, unblinking.

“Oh c’mon. Stop it.” She waved a hoof at my face, threatening to shove it away so my eye contact would break.

I blinked slowly and shrugged. I knew when she was lying - she wasn’t doing a very good job at it anyhow, but I guess that comes with the territory of being the Element of Honesty.

“Truth always comes out,” I said nonchalantly.

“That ain’t what Ah’m here about!” she protested hotly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “An’ how come you’re so interested anyways?”

“Ain’t it enough that Ah care ‘bout mah little sis?” I tried to look angelic, chuckling a little at Applejack’s unamused glare. “Okay, so it’s mostly ‘cause you’re so bad at lyin’ about it.”

She huffed a little. “Ever think there’s a reason Ah ain’t told you yet?”

“Other’n that you’re a mite embarrassed t’ have a crush?” I nudged her shoulder playfully and pondered for a split second. “Eenope.”

A raised eyebrow was my only answer this time.

I shrugged again, before a thought came to me.

“Ah guess Ah could jus’ tell ev’rypony ‘bout your mishap with that lasso five or six summers back…”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she looked at me, aghast.

“That all depends on mah curiosity, now, don’t it?” I smirked again.

“Ugh,” she slapped a hoof to her face. “Fine. You’re askin’ for it!” She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Ah was doin’ it for your own good, y’know.”

I smiled again, widely. Not in my wildest dreams could there have been any way that what she was about to say would do me any harm at all.

“It’s Fluttershy,” she mumbled.

My ear twitched and my eyes went wide with shock. I hadn’t heard right. She’d meant to say Rarity, I was sure of it.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“I said it’s Fluttershy, OK?” She glared at me again. “Th’ very same pony you’re sweet on. Ah know. Happy now?”

I had no comeback.

So we sat in uneasy silence, watching the sunset together. It was starting to get late enough that we’d need to head back to the farmhouse soon, and I did still want to hear what she’d come to say. I took a breath, telling myself that it couldn’t possibly be worse than what she’d just told me.

“So,” I drawled slowly. “What was it y’ really came out here t’ tell me?”

To my surprise, the scent of her fear nearly bowled me over. I glanced to the side and could see her hooves shaking and her chest heaving.

“Easy, now, AJ.” I put a hoof on her shoulder, a small frown on my face. My normally over-confident sister was never this out of sorts. “Take your time.”

She shot me a grateful smile, and took a calming breath. “This one’s gonna take a bit of explainin’.”

“Reckon we got some time afore dinner.”

I watched her squeeze her eyes shut, muttering some voiceless prayer of encouragement, then take yet another deep breath.

“You remember when Ah left for Manehattan, years back?”

I grunted. “Never will forget.” Not that fact that she left or the look of permanent pain on her face afore she went. She was different when she came back. It’s true, she was where she belonged and it made her happy. But that look hadn’t quite faded, either. Sometimes I still catch her staring in the mirror at herself, and always wondered if it was ‘cause she missed the high life of Manehattan, or if it was something else entirely.

“Well, there were a couple o’ reasons Ah left. Ma and Pa, o’ course… I was hurtin’ pretty bad for them. But, the other part was somethin’ else entirely. Like Ah wasn’t who Ah was s’posed t’ be.

“Leavin’ didn’t help none, as you an’ Ah both know. But Ah realized Ah did learn somethin’ in Manehattan that Ah ain’t been able to put my hoof on ‘til recently.”

I watched on as she tugged at her hat nervously, licking her lips. I didn’t interrupt.

“Th’ part that was wrong - that didn’t feel quite right,” she continued slowly, her eyes darting from her hooves to the grass, then to the wheat a few ponylengths off. “It didn't have nothin' t' do with where I was. Which is why Ah couldn’t run from it. That part was inside me. That part… it… it don’t line up with the outside of me.”

Now I was real confused. “How d’you mean?”

“Ah…” She looked up at me again, her eyes a little wild in her nervousness. “On the inside, Ah… Ah’m a colt. Stallion.” She fidgeted with her hat some more. Pa’s hat. “Ah know it sounds weird, but I just can’t handle feelin’ this way no more, Mac! Not if’n there’s somethin’ Ah can do t’ feel better.”

At that point, my mind had become completely fuzzy. I heard a tinny buzzing in my ears that wouldn’t go away no matter how I flicked my ears. I didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. Trees grow a certain way. So does wheat. And there’s a reason for it. I’d always maintained that it was the same with ponies. But this?

Reckon it explained why I often caught her staring in the mirror like that.

I felt a million emotions then. Anger, because this wasn’t the natural order of things. Sorrow, because AJ was so obviously hurting. Heck, I was hurting, too. All of my illusions about our quaint little family who stick so well to tradition had been shattered, in spite of my constant boasts that we broke the stereotypes of being prejudiced farm-folk. How in tarnation were we supposed to explain something like this to family, to friends?

But most of all, I felt a deep confusion.

I tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was an angry-sounding grunt. Like somepony had just bucked me in the stomach. I heard a foggy version of AJ’s voice like it was coming from real far away. I flicked both ears to try to catch her actual words, which was a whole lot harder than it should've been.

“...figurin’ out what comes next, so Ah had Nurse Redheart teach me how t’ do these injections that’ll give me more a stallion-like figure an’ voice an’ stuff.” She reached around to a large bag I hadn’t even noticed she had with her when she came to sit with me. She showed me the vials containing a very slightly golden liquid and the syringes for the injections.

I shied away from them as if they would bite, shuddering a bit at the size of the needles.

“How’d you get those?” I demanded, inwardly furious that I’d taken so long to catch back up to the conversation and not able to prepare myself for the sight.

She almost smiled then. “Bein’ one of the Princess’ best friends has a lot of perks.” She looked up at me with big eyes, looking almost like that small, scared filly who’d gone off to Manehattan to find her destiny - only without the hint of pain that’d always been there.

My poor brain was overloaded. I wanted to be happy for her but I also needed to sort through all of this on my own. So I stood and, without looking at her, started up the hill.

“Reckon it’s time for dinner,” I called back to her. I strode home slowly, still fighting that unsettling need to run forever. But I planted my hooves slowly and firmly, just like I’d taught myself, and showed up for dinner just like usual.

AJ never did come back to the farmhouse that night.

Chapter Two

There ain’t no two ways about it. I was grieving. It ain’t like I’d never felt this way afore, either. We lost grandpappy not long after AJ was born, and then we lost Ma and Pa. Matter of fact, it sometimes feels like I’ve grieved for more of my life than not.

This time was different, though. Reckon that’s ‘cause AJ didn’t actually die. She was just gonna be turning into somepony else.

And that terrified me.

I’d never heard of anypony so upset that they were born a stallion or a mare that they’d try to change it. It probably didn’t help that I’d always been comfortable being the stallion of the family. I never had any second-thoughts, no wondering “what if,” and certainly no discomfort. I was a stallion, plain and simple, and that was all I needed to know. It was really no wonder I didn’t understand.

I hate to say it, but it also made me a mite upset. It was like saying that the natural order of things wasn’t good enough for her, even though it was for everypony else I’d ever met. What was so wrong with being a mare, anyway?

Anyhow, AJ hadn’t come back by breakfast. I wasn’t too worried and, truth be told, I was trying real hard not to think of her too much. I figured she’d probably gone to be with her friends and stayed the night - probably with Miz Rarity or Princess Twilight. She’d be back afore the sun was too far above the horizon, I was sure. My sister was the most dependable pony I’d ever known, and she loved working the farm as much as I did. She’d be back in time to start harvesting.

So I went about my business as usual, trying not to think about the needles AJ had shown me the night before or what the liquid in those little vials would start doing to her. Him?

Celestia, that felt unnatural.

I ate a hearty breakfast with Granny and Apple Bloom. Since AJ still hadn’t shown up when we finished, and Granny sure ain’t as spry as she used to be, I offered to walk Apple Bloom to school. It’s an easy walk, and I enjoyed being around the little filly. Her enthusiasm and innocence were contagious, and I laughed along with her as she told me about the various misadventures she and her fellow crusaders had gotten into recently.

We could hear the school bell ringing from a couple blocks away, and I had to up my pace to keep up with the excitable filly. As we crested the last hill leading to the school, Apple Bloom jumped in the air and raced over to her friends who had already gathered together by the entrance.

“Hey Sweetie! Hi Scoots!” I heard her speaking excitedly. “Got any cool ideas for Crusadin’ t’day?”

I chuckled softly as I approached the school after her, my eyes scanning the area for Cheerilee to let her know I’d dropped Apple Bloom off safely.

“Good morning, Big Mac.” Her voice sounded from behind me. I smiled easily as I turned to face the school teacher.

“Howdy, Miz Cheerilee,” I greeted her, nodding my head politely. “Just droppin’ Apple Bloom off for th’ day.”

“I certainly was surprised to see you,” she replied. Her eyes traveled the playground from habit, ensuring all was in order. “Usually Applejack’s the one to bring her by.”

“Eeyup,” I affirmed. “Reckon she’s got other things t’ worry about this mornin’.”

Cheerilee’s attention was upon me fully now. “I hope nothing’s wrong?” Her kind green eyes shone with concern.

A snort escaped my nostrils before I could stop it. I shook my head slowly. “It ain’t nothin’ for you t’ worry your head about,” I muttered. “Reckon she’s just got diff’rent priorities‘n usual right now.”

She frowned. “You sound upset about something.”

I shook my head again. “Seems like Ah’ll always have some trouble gettin’ used t’ things that’re changin’,” I responded calmly and noncommittally as I could. I shoved images of Applejack the stallion from my mind almost as quick as they appeared.

“Well, if you ever need to talk, you can come by any time.” She smiled brightly at me. “I mean, preferably not during school hours,” she joked.

“That’s mighty kind of you, Miz Cheerilee.” I smiled back, feeling at ease for the first time since the evening before. “Ah’ll remember your offer.”

“Good,” she responded as she turned toward the schoolhouse. “I’ve got to start class now, and I’m sure you have to get back to the Acres. But that offer stands indefinitely.” She nodded smartly, then turned to face the playground. “Alright, fillies and colts,” she called in her infamous Teacher Voice. “Time to start class! Everypony inside - yes, that means you, Snips!”

“Aw, rats!” The small colt discarded the ball he’d been playing with and trotted sullenly toward the door with everypony else.

I smiled at their antics, and gave Cheerilee a wave as I turned back toward the farm and the waiting apple trees.

It was shaping up to be another nice day - not too hot, and not too chilly either - the perfect temperature for working the farm all day. I headed straight for the wheat when I got to the Acres, hoping it might be closer to being ready to harvest. After all, it felt like it’d been ages since I’d last checked on it.

Walking through the Acres is a near-spiritual experience for a lot of ponies. Sometimes we even get tourists wandering in from nearby towns - Phillydelphia, Cloudsdale, even Canterlot, on occasion. We’re right neighborly, like always. We give them a little tour of our best sights and sent them on with a good-sized purchase of apples more times than not. As I ambled along, I couldn’t help but think of those ponies and how I really couldn’t blame them for wanting to see more. Even though I see it every day, the sight of the long grasses with their green and gold stalks and their dull purple-brown seeds up against the big, dark Everfree always runs a chill up my spine.

Soon, I crested the hill I call mine and a small breeze ruffled my mane. I looked down at the wheat, noticing in a glance that it looked the same as before. It needed another week, at least, before it would be ready for harvesting. Regardless, I let myself stay there for several minutes not thinking about anything in particular and just being. Might be a fancy, cultured pony like Miz Rarity would call it meditation or mindfulness or something.

Granny would call it lollygagging.

So I surveyed the whole field one last time - the corn did look like it was gonna have a good yield once it was ready in a month or so - and took a deep breath, letting the calm wash over me. I blew it out, then bent down and bit off a stalk of grass. It settled so easily into place between my teeth that I briefly wondered if the thousands of stalks I’d bitten off and held there over the years had started to form a groove.

First thing was to get the baskets set up under the trees for bucking, which was generally my job. We were supposed to start the south field that day since the Honeycrisps were finally ripe and ready to be baked into pies and fritters and crisps all over Ponyville. We kept the baskets in the barn overnight - wouldn’t do for them to be stolen away by varmints and the like from the Everfree. I never will forget the first time I lost a basket that eventually became part of a timberwolf’s tough wooden armor. I headed toward the barn, shaking my head ruefully at the memory.

If I were to be honest with myself, I was kind of hoping AJ wouldn’t be back. I didn’t really feel like facing her or talking more about her… issue.

As I nudged the large red doors open, however, I heard a familiar sound.

Guitar music was flowing through the orchard, all slow, melancholy and bittersweet. With a sigh, I hooked myself up to the large cart that was already full of empty baskets. AJ certainly was a planner. Efficient, too.

Once out of the barn, I cocked an ear to see where the music was coming from.

Of course.

I swallowed my second sigh of resignation and headed toward the sound and the apples that needed my attention. The cart hooked to Pa’s yoke caused me no bother at all, in fact I barely noticed I was pulling it along with me.

The trip was a short one - the groves are as far apart as they need to be and no farther - and before I knew it, I was face to face with the pony playing the guitar. Ma’s guitar, actually.

AJ didn’t move as I walked up, and I honestly wasn’t sure if she’d even heard me approach. Could be because she had her hat pulled low over her brow to shield the sun, or just because she was into the music. Either way, that suited me just fine, on account of I didn’t know what to say to her anymore. I unhooked myself from the cart slowly - darned music she was playing wouldn’t let me move any faster, if that makes any sense - and started strategically setting out the baskets.

The nice thing about being Earth Ponies, though we don’t really get much attention for it, is that we have a magical connection to the earth. Since AJ and I have been running the farm ourselves for quite some time now, we’ve gotten to know our trees pretty darn well. This includes knowing where to set the baskets underneath the trees - it’s different for every tree, but certainly aids in our efficiency when we don’t have to pick up the apples that didn’t fall into the baskets.

Once I’d finished setting out the baskets - all within a centimeter of accuracy, I might add - it had become apparent that AJ was ignoring me. She hadn’t so much as looked up while I’d been moving in and out of the trees to prepare for bucking, though I couldn’t blame her, really, since she’d decided to sit on the east side of the trunk. I ambled up next to her and sat down facing north.

“Where’d you go las’ night, ‘Jack?” I asked after a few more measures of guitar music.

“Twilight’s,” she answered noncommittally. “She had a sharps container from Celestia-knows-where that she let me use.”

Startled, I looked over at her and saw a small band-aid on her flank where I assumed she’d done her injection. I gave a small shudder at the thought of the giant needle she’d showed me last night. Then something clicked in my mind, and I studied her covertly. She seemed different today. More confident than last night. That thought gave me pause. AJ's never had trouble being confident... had she?

I suddenly wondered if I really knew my own sister.

AJ let her music slow and come to a cadence, then set her guitar in its case and turned a level stare at me.

“Ah could certainly use a bit more support from mah big brother, you know,” she said, voice hard. “Granny an’ AB are both on board an’ have even started callin’ me ‘he.’”

“Already?” I sat back against the tree, stunned.

She studied me closely, a frown on her face. Then she sighed.

“Ah don’t expect you t’ trot around correctin’ ponies right an’ left if’n they mess up. ‘Specially since the injections take a bit o’ time t’ work t’ make me look real stallion-y, even if Twi’s helpin’ them along with some magic. But it’d be helpful if’n you could stop actin’ like this is a personal affront t’ you an’ that Ah’m some sort o’ freakshow.

“This ain’t goin’ away, you know.” She pushed Pa’s hat farther up onto her head so I could see her whole face. “Might as well get used to it, Mac.”

“It ain’t exac’ly an easy thing t’ jus’ get used to, y’know.” My tone was overly sarcastic, but I was feeling uncharacteristically ornery. I hadn't even known she'd talked to Granny and Apple Bloom. “Ah have t-”

“Oh no,” she interrupted, a fierce look in her eyes. “You don’t hafta anything. This ain’t somethin’ Ah’m doin’ to you. This is somethin’ Ah’m doin’ for me.” She shoved a hoof into her chest for emphasis before standing up. She looked for a moment like she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Her golden tresses swayed slightly as she shook her head and walked off to begin working.

We worked side-by-side for the rest of the day, though silently. None of our usual light-hearted banter and knowing looks eased our aching muscles or made the time fly. By the time the sun set, not even a single interruption from Apple Bloom or that impish Rainbow Dash had punctuated our efforts.

After my anger had simmered and I really started to feel the labor in my bones and muscles - which, incidentally, wasn’t ‘til partway through the afternoon - I thought on what Applejack had said. Most of me felt like it wouldn’t ever feel right to call her a stallion or refer to her as “him.” But a growing part of me was thinking about Granny and AB, and the most basic part of being an Apple. Pa put it best when he’d have his important talks with us when we were growing up, and I recounted it as I headed toward the barn with a cart that now overflowed with ripe fruit.

“Now lissen here, Mac, AJ,” he’d say as he pinned us with a serious look over his dinner plate. “Ah want y’ both t’ remember that you’re only as strong as th’ bond with your family. That there’s a bond that’ll never be broken, not as long as there’s life in an Apple somewhere. Nothin’ you c’n do or say will ever change the way your family loves you. An’ when you’re grown an’ don’ have me t’ remind you, Ah hope you remember t’ always love an’ support each other an’ your future families with that in mind. Reckon someday you’ll understand more fully, but consarn it - you ain’t nothin’ without your family. But with it, there ain’t nothing you can’t do!”

That particular memory sat with me all evening, unsettling me more than I care to admit.