Luck is such a thing that you will not get for a long time. Sometimes it comes, quickly and unexpectedly. It disappears even faster. Some women dream of children, but cannot have them. Others have many children, but do not have enough money to feed and maintain them. Some families have children and love them, while other children will never see their parents. They are forced to live and grow in orphanages. But how to understand which of them are more fortunate? A lonely old man is sitting in a small room. He is silent. He is looking at the old wooden floor. A woman is sitting in the next room. She does not live in this house; she looks completely different. The smell of her expensive perfume does not fit this poor house. There is a scream. And in a few minutes the woman takes out the baby wrapped in a blanket from the room.
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A Pot Full of Tears by Lauri Kubuitsile
Luck comes and goes like a thief in the night, here one minute, gone the next. Some women want children but can’t have them; others have children but can’t keep them. Some babies are born into loving families; others never sleep in their own mother’s arms, and never know their father’s name.
And in the end, which of them is lucky, and which unlucky? Who can say?
The wind whispers through the walls of the little wooden house, blowing the flame of the smoky lamp from side to side. An old man sits, resting his arms on his legs, looking down at the wooden floor. How long will it be, he thinks. The end must come soon, it must.
Across the room from him sits a woman. She is a stranger and does not belong in this house. Everything about her is different – she looks different, she sounds different, she smells different. She has sat here in this poor little house for seven hours, but still the wind carries her expensive perfume, a smell from another world. She and the old man are different in every way, but she, too, sits on an old wooden chair, looking down at the wooden floor. How long will it be, she thinks. The end must come soon, it must.
Sometimes they hear a cry from the other room. Each time, the old man feels that cry all through his body, a father feeling a child’s pain.
A loud scream brings both the old man and woman stranger to their feet. They wait. Minutes later, an old woman comes through the door, holding a baby in a blanket. The blanket is new, brought by the woman stranger. She now takes the baby from the old woman, but she does not move the blanket to look at the baby’s face. She is not interested in that. She leaves the house without even a goodbye to the old man.
It is months before. Before a baby is taken away in the night from a mother who is a child too young to be a mother. It is months before a father decides that he must lock his daughter in the back room. He must do this because he loves his daughter, and she will never find a good husband if people know her dark secret. It is months before a child with long feet like his father and a curved eyebrow like his mother is taken away in the night… A child who will never see the long feet of his father or the curved eyebrow of his mother.
It is morning, on that day months before, and a young woman, hundreds of miles away, wakes up to find a little blood between her legs. Now her husband’s family will decide that she can never have children. And her husband’s mother will say, once again, that she is no good. She will say that a woman who cannot have children is no use to the family. Tears run down the young woman’s face and she wants to die, because she does not want to give this news to her husband, who was hoping, hoping, hoping…