I’m a storyteller from West Texas.  My father was a Scottish Cowboy, the son of a tobacco farmer turned preacher. My mother is Indigenous, bought on the black market for three thousand dollars. There are cowboys and Indians fighting over the same horse in my heart. 

 

Mom is a retired nurse and empath. She sees ghosts all the time. Fortunately, I do not.

 

Dad could fix anything - from race car engines to the little mechanism that makes the bedroom blinds open and close. I once watched him spend an entire Saturday going back and forth to the hardware store to repair a lawn chair that had frayed and split from the burden of my uncle’s enormous ass. I remember thinking he could just buy a new one, but that wasn’t an option for my dad. There was still a heart beating in the old chair and a puzzle to be solved.

Stories have made it possible for me to fix things like my father and see ghosts like my mother.

 

​