A small river lives at the bottom of our house.
Its funny curves made us call it the little snake.
At each hour of the day, its waters shone in a different color, as if in addition to being a snake, it was also a chameleon.
My brother and I fed him with stones and sticks, and sometimes also songs.

We sang and so did the birds that lived in the trees.

The river was never alone.
Just like mom’s garden, where she spent a lot of time touching the earth and her daughters’ plants.
From the garden to the forest in the backyard, dad built a bridge, and on it we listened to him say how one day we would understand that the course of life is like the water that flowed n that small river in our backyard.