My father built this house

I was making breakfast in the morning. A long-haired man put his hand harshly on my shoulder. I turned around and grabbed his wrist. I said to him, “My father built this house.”

He said to me, “My Native American ancestors nourished the tree and stone this house is built with.”

I was taken aback, not expecting this. I said, “Well, I guess we’re even then.”