My mother told me about the ocean. A place where there was nothing but water. She showed me a picture of my great-great-grandmother standing in the ocean as a child.
Based on my mother's stories, the ocean sounded like the wind through the trees and men used to ride the water. When I grew older, our village experienced drought.
My mother would always stand next to me, holding her hand up over her eyes to block the sun. Waiting for her husband to come home. She's the only one who believes that he has not turned.I gave up on my father. I buried the pain of losing him so that I could continue with my daily life.
My mother still prays at night, hoping that my dad would have found some place safe. But the sisters tell us otherwise, saying that this was the only place left that as safe.
My brother chose to patrol the fences. I know that he thinks like me, that my father would not be returning anymore.
The unconsecrated made everyone mad. One time a woman burned herself when she learned that her son turned. This burnt our house and heirlooms.