An old Massey Ferguson farm tractor sits on our driveway. Decades have weathered its bright red paint into a muted, rusty hue. Mechanically, it is in great shape and starts on the first turn of the key. It is very similar to the tractors my father remembers seeing around our small, rural village in central Punjab, India the kind, at the time, my family could never afford. Here in Canada, it is ridiculously impractical for all the reasons we tell ourselves we need it mostly cutting grass and plowing snow but that tractor serves as an important reminder of my familys heritage and work ethic.

We grew out from under the dirt.