Hangry Chickens
I walk out of the shed in my parent’s backyard and hear chickens in the distance.
“cock, cock-cock-cock”
These are Tyler Housley’s short-form essays.
I walk out of the shed in my parent’s backyard and hear chickens in the distance.
“cock, cock-cock-cock”
The sun is shining and the birds are singing. I’m gathering my family’s empty soda cans to take them to a recycling center in Hayward, CA. I kept postponing this trip, because they closed all the recycling centers in my hometown of Castro Valley — attempting to purge the homeless blight.
I’m at a family friend’s wedding with my brother, parents, and girlfriend—tucked into the hills along Highway 1, not too far from Hearst Castle. The ceremony is pleasant—despite the ungodly summer heat. Family and friends deliver speeches; the pastor goes through the motions; then we walk a half mile down a dirt path towards a barn, where the reception dinner is awaiting our arrival.