‘Work, patience, repair’

ERIC ROMEROArtistSanta Fe, New Mexico I thought the fence was only a fence. Wood buried in the earth, wire holding the horizon together, the old world leaning against the new. I passed it as a boy without knowing I was passing through someone else’s hands. My grandfather is gone. I don’t remember his voice, but the farm remembers. His hands are still here, buried beneath the posts. I became a father and learned the old language — work, patience, repair. Now I look at that fence and understand. A father does not always leave his name. Sometimes he leaves a place strong enough for his children to lean against. We welcome reader letters. Email High Country News at [email protected] or submit a letter to the editor. See our letters to the editor policy. This article appeared in the November 2026 print edition of the magazine with the headline “#IAMTHEWEST.” Republish Spread the word. News organizations can pick-up quality news, essays and feature stories for free.

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