This is one of my favorite childhood stories.
"Mẹ, Mama, I think I hear Thief. His digging is getting faster!" said Little Girl. Mẹ shuffled to the corner of the modest, and appreciated, mud house to pull out the four shoes. "Con, child, put on the shoes. Quickly." Mama and Little Girl put a different shoe on each foot. Toes were curled to keep the much-too-large shoes on their feet. "Now, move your feet." Little Girl and her mama danced and stomped, hustled and hopped, treaded and trampled. As the cadence and beats of four different shoes slammed against the dried muck floors, the digging subsided. "Thief stupid," Mẹ always says. "So many people in this scanty house." his ears would tell him. Thief stopped trying to dig a hole into the mud house to steal.
The plan worked. It always did. Thief would hear the gait of a strong, unyielding man. Or, maybe it was the pace of a spouse keen on maiming an intruder? Little Girl always knew Mama had a plan.
Not long ago, Mẹ had a decisive plan. She took Little Girl and left home. Father took another lady, and Mẹ felt it was not right. Mama looks for opportunity. She always looks for a better way. We found a mud home amidst the forest. We have shelter. We have food. We have each other. We also have shoes ready for when Thief visits.
Mom often told this story. It was meaningful to her. Mẹ was her Bà ngoại (grandma), and Little Girl was her mother. These women are a part of my story. They are Strength and Gumption and Audacity. Có chí thì nên. Will finds its way.
Will has already found its way to Bennet and Ruby. I see it in their eyes. I hear it in their voices. Really, it is the cumulative voices of many before them.
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