Spring 1869 – When Next the Cactus Blooms

 

Father returned on the afternoon of the fifth day. His right arm was bandaged and his face abraded with dozens of scabs. His left leg dragged a moment before committing to a step. He waved off my questions until he was able to pour himself a mug of tea. 

After his third swallow he finally said, “Lohoni and Angtha are a day behind me. They were hurt worse and healed faster. They laughed the entire time. It was exhausting.”