The day in the fields is almost over.
My little sister got hurt today: she is three years old and she is not strong like I am already six.
The sun is setting and if we don’t hurry it will be dark and we won’t be able to go home. If we don’t come back, dad can’t eat and then maybe he’s sick and he gets worried and angry.
I tell my little sister to get a move on, but she’s so tired she can’t walk. She still doesn’t know how to speak and sometimes I struggle to understand her, especially when we come back from work and I’m tired. “I take you on my shoulders” I say lifting her up. Arms hurt and my legs hardly hold me, but we must be home before dark, even if home is far away.
While I walk my little sister falls asleep, even today we managed to eat only in the morning. I’m afraid if she continues like this she will get sick. But how can I do it all by myself? Dad is at home and he does not move, poor father is paralyzed.
I walk home and we arrive when it is almost night. The hole in the roof has been redone and the rotted plank will soon break. Then I’ll have to look for something to keep it standing. But I’ll think about it tomorrow: now I have to feed dad.
I move the piece of sheet metal that serves as the door and I go in the house. “A nun came to look for you, the priest sent her to help us” dad says. He is smiling happily like I’ve never seen him. He is so beautiful and happy that I feel like crying: thank you Mrs. Sister.
