“Ông nôi, look!”
Ngoc Ðình streaked across the rice paddy in gleaming sunlight, bare feet splashing, clasping the twig-and-glue model bridge.
The old man paused behind the water buffalo, wiped his forehead on his sleeve. He turned toward the eager, grinning face.
“Well done. You’ll need to study more if you want to build a real bridge one day.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Your father went to America to study engineering.” Turning back to the plow, he slapped the water buffalo’s back. “Maybe you’ll be an engineer too.”
The plow lurched, squelching. Ngoc Ðình stared, fingertips tracing splintered contours.
America.
I enjoyed this….a story about possibilities and the planting of seeds, harvesting a future. Nicely done.
Thank you very much for reading and commenting Kirsten, I really appreciate it. Glad you liked the story, and thanks for the kind words.