Rachel was eleven years old. Her mother decided to move in with boyfriend Walter. Walter had a farm.
Rachel’s mother gave her a kind and motherly talk. “I want you to try and like Walter and do everything he says. He’s going to be supporting us, since I don’t have a job. He can be to you like the father you’ve never had.”
Rachel said she’d do her best. And she did!
It was summer. There was no school. Walter asked Rachel to go out onto the farm and grub thistles. He showed her how to do it. Rachel spent nearly all day in the hot sun grubbing thistles.
And the next day.
And the next day.
Rachel never complained. She was trying to do as her mother had asked.
And the next day.
And the next day.
Rachel never complained. She had blisters on her hands.
And the next day.
The summer finished. Rachel went back to school.
The following summer was the same.
And the next summer.
And the next summer.
Rachel never complained. She was trying to do as her mother had asked.
And the next summer.
Rachel was fifteen. Quite frankly, she’d had a gutsful. She upped and left. She never came back.