Every night I wake up under the same crooked tree. An oak I think. With its ridged branches reaching out into the night. Claw like branch tips looking like they might snatch me up any minute. There’s a piece of broken rope tied to one of the branches, maybe from an old tire swing or something. But I’m not sure when the last time any children lived around these parts. This is a small town in the middle of West Virginia. A ghost town since the coal company came in and wiped out all the local jobs. Not much here at all except coal dust in the air.

Ma and pa lost their shop recently, one of the few convenient stores left 40 miles around. Without the store they felt their purpose was crushed, stolen from them. They couldn’t afford their health care costs. Ma’s cough kept getting worse and worse. Pa was always there tryna take care of her. He had his own struggles though. Bad back, tightness in his chest. One day he said his shoulder hurt real bad and was getting some tightening in his chest.

We rushed him to the hospital fast, worried he could have a heart attack. Hospital was over an hour away. We didn’t make it. Well, he didn’t make it. We pulled over when it got bad and tried to give him CPT but his old

body crapped out. He died holding my mother’s hands with tears in both their eyes.

Ma was never the same after. Her cough got worse and eventually we got her to a doctor too, they said it was cancer stage 4. She didn’t want the chemo. I don’t know know if it was the cancer or heartbreak but she flatlined in a matter of months.

State came and took our house, said we owed medical debt. Mortgage payments overdue and the like. Now I’m just laying under this crooked old tree in rural West Virginia. Looking out at the stars. Wondering what the hell I’m gonna do next.