With our mother lost to us, my brother Jurgis and I began the work of our farm in the Sakiai by ourselves. We took milk from goats, collected eggs and gave fresh straw to the hens. The work brought colour to my brother’s face. We both worked hard, we were glad to be given over to such tasks, and by nightfall we rested. Lying in our beds, waiting for our hard-earned sleep, our minds raced with the new labours and what we must attend to next.
“Myko,” said Jurgis, “we still have lots of work to do.” He spoke of the neglected flocks.
“We cannot do everything at once.”
“But …” He hesitated for a moment. “The flocks, what will become of them?”
“I don’t know.”
My brother kept silent for a long time and then, softly, his familiar voice came through the night air. “Our father would know what t
