I remember the morning that Mr. W's youngest son left to make a life for himself away from the family farm. Our family had worked for Mr. W even before I was born, so my memories of him and his two boys farming together were an extension of my own family life. I honestly can't remember Mr. W's boys not being a part of my life. Every morning, it was my job to collect water from the well for morning household chores. As I carefully carry gallons of fresh water in the bucket upon my head, Mr. W would smile and greet me saying, " Here you go. (Handing me a fresh-plucked flower from his own flower bed) A daisy for my day-star!" Mr. W had planted many different wild flowers in his flowerbed. Every day he would water and weed those wild flowers. It was in a way his morning ritual like my water carrying. I carried water to the kitchen and Mr. W tended to his flowers as he waited for his sons' to get ready for the days work. Mr. W has two sons, Michael and Simon. Micha...
Life is tough, but hope is tougher.