Continued…

Each of them stood barefoot on a patch of dry dirt, stoic and defiant. The boys’ pants and shirts were a few sizes too small and torn along the edges—the skin of their wrists and ankles laid bare to the world. They were lined up in a row, touching each other’s elbows. The youngest of the lads had a cotton fabric sling cradling his right arm. Although the fabric was stained, it appeared to be applied properly, although a bit tight around his neck. I preferred to imagine that he had wounded himself while climbing a tree or rough-housing in a nearby hay loft, rather than a situation involving intentional violence. The girl, outfitted in a long-sleeved knitted frock, had chosen to stand in front of the two middle-sized boys, as if they were her protectors.

The sparse amount of leaf-less trees signified that it was either early spring or late autumn. In either case, a bit too cold to be running around in bare feet. A small two-storey log cabin was situated behind them. All of its windows were broken, with bits and pieces of glass still in the frames. It’s as if the broken shards were stubborn and unwilling to let go of the rotting wood.

A large sign leaned against the covered porch of the cabin, stating ‘HWY 60, Family Home for Rent.’

Were they moving in or were they moving out?

Despite all the indications of a hard life being lived, the young girl held onto a stuffed teddy bear with her two small hands.