Hello!Hive friends!
I'm new to this community.I hope you're all doing well and that you'll support my stories.I'm excited to share my childhood stories with you all.
The rooster's crow wasn't an alarm clock;it was the soundtrack to my childhood.Before the sun even thought about peeking over the horizon,my father's hand would be on my shoulder,gently rousing me and my little sister.
It was Saturday or Sunday, no school to worry about,just the dew-kissed fields waiting for us.Four or five in the morning, the air still cool and carrying the scent of damp earth and growing things.My parents,farmers through and through, relied on our small hands to help with the never-ending task of keeping the weeds at bay.
Our farm,nestled deep in the countryside,was a tapestry woven with rows of corn and peanut plants.These weren't just crops;they were the heart of our family's life,the source of our sustenance,and the backdrop to my earliest memories.
The corn stalks,tall and strong,stood sentinel over our small figures as we carefully navigated the rows,plucking out the tenacious weeds that threatened to choke the life from our bounty.
The peanuts,still hidden beneath the soil,were a promise of the harvest to come a promise that fueled our early morning efforts.
Eight o'clock brought a welcome respite.Back at the farmhouse,the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air.Breakfast was a simple affair,but it was a feast after our work in the cool morning air.
The warmth of the food,the comfort of family,and the feeling of accomplishment were a perfect blend.
After breakfast,the world was ours.My sister and I would disappear into the boundless expanse of our childhood,exploring the woods behind the house,building makeshift forts,and losing ourselves in the endless games only children can invent.
The hours drifted by,filled with laughter and the carefree abandon of youth,until the midday meal called us back.
The afternoon brought a repeat performance of the morning's routine.The sun,now high in the sky,beat down on our backs as we returned to the fields,our small hands once again working to ensure a healthy harvest.
Four o'clock found us weary but satisfied,our contribution to the family's livelihood made.The setting sun cast long shadows across the fields,painting the landscape in hues of orange and gold.
These weren't just chores;they were lessons in hard work,responsibility,and the simple beauty of life in the countryside.
They were lessons etched not in textbooks,but in the calloused palms of my hands,the sweat on my brow,and the deep satisfaction of a day's work well done.
They were the building blocks of my childhood,shaping me into the person I am today.And even now,the scent of freshly turned earth brings me back to those early mornings,to the quiet strength of my parents,and to the simple,profound joy of life in the cornfield.
When the time came to get married and start my own family,I vowed that my children would never experience the hardships of my rural childhood.
I was determined to provide them with a better life.Luckily,I now have a stable job as a teacher with the Department of Education (DepEd),and I also teach ESL Teacher,as my sideline income.
My husband also has a good government job as a police officer(PNP member).We,are blessed with three children—two boys and a girl—whom we are raising to be good and respectful.
That's my story. I hope you enjoyed reading it.
This is my own family now.My husband, my two son's, my one daughter,and me.
