The van arrived in the village every Tuesday at 3pm.
josh
It is a tidy village, one filled with kind and generous folk. Stoic houses sit alongside one main road, featuring a grocery and a taverna.
My homestead sits at the edge of this village, on the meandering road that twists around the mountains.
Our language isn’t shared with the visiting drivers, but we make do with gentle signs of the hand, of implied terms through open faces, uplifting tones.
Today, an unfamiliar face disembarks, yet the words that slip from their lips are understood by all.
“My dear children.”
This Tuesday will go down in history.
The return of salvation.