Lighten Each Other's Load

Baskets on their heads, ladies with sons in tow walked in line on the clay footpath beside my parents' home.  I asked what they were selling. "Fruits and vegetables", I told mom. "Ask them in," she ordered.  "Dayon mo 'nang," (come in) I called, and one of the ladies pushed the wooden gate in.

Their baskets revealed a small variety of their own produce.  The little proceeds from the fruits of their labor would help them tide over   Christmas and perhaps a few days after.

But this is not the story.

Mom picked out the heaviest among the crops, which were two large squash and a few yam. Let's buy them and lighten their load.

I love mom. She turned 78 yesterday.

Weighing the goods.

She said they were among mom's patients.

Off to sell the rest of the produce.