like the place where our children…
…spread across his face. “That’s not a mouse, Mari,” he said gently. “That’s a guinea pig. And those are her babies.” I stared at him, certain I had misheard. A guinea pig? In our basement? He nodded as if the answer were obvious. “Look at its body, its ears, its nose. It must have found a quiet spot here and built itself a little nest.” Suddenly, the whole scene shifted in my mind.
I looked at the little mother again,
and this time, I saw her differently. She was no longer just a shadow in the corner. She was a weary, watchful little mother who had chosen the safest spot she could find. She took a cautious step toward the nest, then another, and settled down beside the young ones. Two of them came to her, and tears sprang to my eyes. I didn’t touch her. I simply sat there in awe, while my grandfather stayed beside me and spoke s
