A widowed farmer stops to watch a family building a mud house… he never imagined that they would end up changing his life forever.

nightfall.

I sat beside Catalina on the porch steps.

“I wanted to go back,” he said.

I didn’t ask anything more.

-And you?

He looked toward the ranch entrance, at the scorched wooden sign that still read: Rancho Buena Esperanza.

—The mud that has already fallen doesn’t rise again in the same place—he finally said.—. It is used to build something new, but continue reading …