Chapter 3: The Roots of a Dream

A few years back, our town mostly grew corn, soybeans, and cotton. Then one guy got ahead of the curve and switched to sugar mandarins. It all started with a single Facebook post: a row of glossy mandarins lined up on a battered picnic table, the caption bragging about enough vitamin C to cure the whole county’s colds. That year, he went viral on TikTok—a video of him tossing mandarins into a basket racked up thousands of views, and suddenly everyone in the county wanted a taste. He sold out his whole crop, made a small fortune.

People talked about it everywhere—the diner, church, even at Friday night football. Soon, everyone wanted in. The town supervisor took charge and, with some arm-twisting, got the pioneer to share his planting secrets.

By spring, every family had ripped up half-grown crops and planted mandarins, betting everything on a better year. These trees were different—they ripened late, just in time for holiday spending. If sales went well, folks could afford more than just roast chicken for Christmas. Maybe a honey-baked ham, real eggnog, gifts for the kids. My family was no different.

But this year, everyone bet the same way. Too many mandarins, not enough buyers. Prices crashed, and Dad wore his worry like a second skin. His hands looked rougher, his face older—each line a tally mark for another sleepless night.

"Son, we raised you, sent you to college. Never asked you for much, but we’re in trouble now. Just help us out—help the town. Use your connections, try to sell those mandarins. The holidays are coming, don’t you want everyone to have a good Christmas?"

Dad’s voice went soft—almost pleading. He never did that. The guilt twisted inside me. I was the one helping, but somehow it felt like I owed him.

Under his hopeful gaze, I sighed. "Fine, I’ll do it."

He rushed out, boots crunching on gravel, eager to spread the word. I stood there, feeling like a fraud. If the supervisor couldn’t do it, how could I? Still, Dad was right—a little sold was better than nothing. At least it was something.