Diwata

Soiled
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2003-01-09 04:43:38 (UTC)

life remained the same

DAYS. Weeks. Months passed. And still our life remained the
same. My father was still a farmer, Mother and I still went
to the market, and Paolo was still in the seminary,
visiting us every once in a while.

It was a windy afternoon when Father's friend, Lito, came
knocking on our door.

Mother was caught by surprise when she opened the door. She
promptly asked him to come in and whether or not he would
like a glass of orange juice.

Lito politely declined and inquired if Father was home for
he wanted to ask a favor.

Father appeared, placed an arm around Lito's shoulders and
guided him out into the field.

It was dinnertime before I found out what the favor was.

"We are going to have a visitor," Father said simply. "From
the city."


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