Story no. 1: The pink dress

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It was still dark when the rooster, perched on the fence, was crowing. That was a sign for the household to start the day. The kitchen was soon filled with the sound of cutlery and chatter. Breakfast was composed of simple but nourishing food. An old but fit man started to prepare the wagon. He gently put the harness on the horse and whispered something in its ear. Tools, food, and clothes were being loaded by the rest. Critters around the stable and barn were peeping and chirping; a short woman in her sixties was feeding them.
In one of the farthest rooms of the old house, a little girl was still fast asleep. The comforter was pulled up to her nose. The barking of the dog outside did not disturb her dream.

“Coco, wake up,” her mother said gently.
The girl turned around to face the wall and mumbled something.
“Come on, darling, open your eyes.”

Still mumbling, the girl tried to get out of the covers, eyes shut. Trying to sit, she fell back on the bed. The woman gently picked up the four-year-old and carried her to the kitchen through the yard. Coco dozed off, lulled in her arms. She ate and dressed with her eyes almost closed.

“Let’s go! Everything is ready.” The deep voice of the grandpa boomed in the kitchen.

The whole family got in the wooden wagon chatting and laughing. In the back, the two little boys were planning their next mischief with their cousin, Coco.

The dirt road was unleveled, making the ride rough, leaning the wagon. Little stems of potatoes and corn were peeking through the loose, dark soil. Coco was intently watching the farmers coming to their crops. A wooden, humble cabin, set at the edge of the road, served as a makeshift house for one of the farmers. Coco remembered her grandpa say something about thieves stealing crops. Last summer he even left on horse in the middle of the night to catch a watermelon thief. The early summer sun was just above the horizon line, not giving any warmth. Being chilly in her green shorts and t-shirt, she pulled the picnic blanket from under Mikey.

“Nooo!” Her cousin rebelled, tugging the blanket.
“Gimme, Mikey!”

Mikey’s brother, Maurice, was not paying attention. He was stuffing blueberries in his mouth from beneath the bench, trying to be sneaky. His indigo lips and fingers gave him away.

“Guys, stop fighting. And you, stop eating or you’re goin’ to spoil your appetite,” their grandma said in a gentle but authoritative voice.

The ruckus stopped instantly as the wagon turned right into the field. The grandpa pulled the harness and the horse neighed as it stopped.
Until the middle of the day, the adults made little holes with hoes and behind them the kids put seedlings. June was the perfect period to plant white cabbage. The village was well known for its crops, especially cabbage, potatoes, and watermelons.
The ground was scorching and the air felt like it was burning. Coco was sitting on the blanket under the wagon, making up games. Searching through some clothes, something pink caught her attention. She pulled it out of the pile. It was a little sleeveless pink dress, with ruffles on the shoulders and on the bottom skirt. She undressed and put it on. Wanting to show her mother what she found, not knowing it was supposed to be a surprise, she skipped to the cabbage row where everyone was working. Meanwhile, menacing black clouds were gathering in the sky. As soon as Coco called her mom, rain started to pour. There weren’t individual droplets, but a curtain of water. In the distance, a lighting bolt split the sky in two. As everyone gathered their things to leave, they saw the little girl just standing there, soaked, with a puppy face.

“Oh, Coco, are you goin’ somewhere? Have a party to attend to?” Her grandma laughed looking at her muddy pink granddaughter.
“It’s ruined!” said Coco in a tiny, squeaky voice. Little tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.
“Sweetie, you just have a rainy day.”

Everyone got in the wagon, laughed all the way home, while it poured continuously, trying to cheer Coco up, joking on her choice of wardrobe.



^{All content, text and photos, is my own original work.}