Poor Boy

Chapter 2: The Harsh Winter

In the early morning, the cold of winter was even more severe in the small house. Minh shivered as he got out of bed, his feet touching the icy cold floor like stone. He glanced at his grandparents still sleeping, his grandfather’s eyes half-closed, his breathing steady but labored, as if each breath was a monumental effort. His grandmother lay motionless, her frail hands clutching a thin blanket, as if trying to hold onto the last bit of warmth.

Minh quietly stepped outside, where dry leaves were scattered, swept away by the biting wind. The sky was still dim, the weak sunlight insufficient to dispel the cold, only adding to the somberness of the new day. Minh put on his worn-out coat, which was too large for him, a hand-me-down from his older brother who had left home years ago to find work. Since then, the family had received no news from him, as if he had been swept away by the harsh currents of life.

Minh knew today would be a long day. Every winter, earning a living became even more challenging. The dry fields, the hardened soil, and the trees no longer had the strength to sprout. Minh’s parents had to search far and wide for any small jobs to earn money for food. Sometimes, they would be away for days, leaving Minh alone to care for his grandparents.

Inside the house, the clinking of pots on the stove began. Minh’s mother, with eyes hollowed from lack of sleep, was cooking porridge. The faint smell of the thin porridge filled the space but did little to mask the scarcity. Minh looked at his mother, his heart aching. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t hide the exhaustion on her haggard face, her eyes clouded with worry about tomorrow.

“Mom, let me help,” Minh offered, his small hands reaching out to help stir the pot.

His mother shook her head, looking at him with gentle but firm eyes. “Go outside and start a fire to warm up Grandpa and Grandma. Let me handle this.”

Minh understood that his mother didn’t want him to take on more burdens, but he also knew he couldn’t just stand by. The boy went outside, gathering the remaining dry branches and starting a small fire beside the house. The flames flickered, the warm golden light reflecting off Minh’s thin face, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the biting cold that had settled into his soul.

Every time Minh looked at his grandparents, he remembered the days when they were healthy, working together on the fields. His grandfather had been a robust man, unafraid of hard work. His grandmother was a resilient woman, always keeping the home clean and warm. But time and illness had taken it all away. Now, his grandparents had only a small amount of strength left, unable to do anything on their own and relying on Minh and his parents.

Minh’s mother came out, placing a bowl of porridge in front of his grandfather. “Dad, Mom, have a little to keep warm,” she said gently, but her voice carried an inescapable worry.

Grandfather opened his eyes, looking at his daughter with cloudy eyes. He tried to lift the spoon, but his hands trembled, unable to hold it steadily. Minh hurried over to help, guiding the spoon to his grandfather’s mouth. The warm porridge was bland, but its taste did little to hide the poverty. Grandfather struggled to swallow each spoonful, as if each bite was a tremendous effort.

Grandmother lay beside him, her eyes cloudy, staring into the distance as if reminiscing about a past time. Minh’s heart ached to see her like this. She had once been a cheerful woman, always smiling and talking with her grandchildren, but now her smiles had been replaced by silence and helplessness.

Minh looked back at his mother, seeing her also trying to hide her inner pain. He knew she was worried about the family’s future, anxious about how to manage the money needed for medication for his grandparents and food for the household.

His father returned home in the afternoon, his face gaunt and weary. He had searched everywhere for work, but in winter, no one needed a construction laborer. Old injuries had flared up again, making each step a painful ordeal. He sat by the fire, closing his eyes, as if trying to find warmth in the freezing cold.

Minh’s mother looked at her husband with sorrowful eyes. She knew he was suffering not only physically but emotionally as well. “Did you find any work today?”

His father shook his head, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. “No work at all. Everyone said they don’t need extra help this season. I tried, but...” He didn’t finish, only staring silently at the dwindling fire in the stove.

Minh sat beside them, looking at his parents with compassion. He knew they were doing their best for the family, but life was harsh. Minh wished he could do more, help his parents overcome these difficulties. But he was just a child, with no great strength or abilities.

That night, as everyone fell asleep, Minh lay awake, his eyes wide open in the darkness. He thought about the future, about what he could do to change their lives. Minh knew that if things continued like this, his family would never escape poverty. He needed to do something, but what and where to start? That was a question Minh couldn’t answer.

The winter cold seemed to seep deeper into his bones, making his worries even heavier. He knew he couldn’t give up, couldn’t let his family fall into despair. He had to be stronger, find a way to overcome all the difficulties, because he was the last hope for his family. But sometimes, fear and helplessness overwhelmed him, making Minh feel like a small, fragile child in a vast, unforgiving world.

Before falling asleep, Minh silently prayed that tomorrow would bring something better, a glimmer of hope in their gloomy life. But deep down, Minh knew that the road ahead was long and filled with challenges, and he had to prepare for whatever lay ahead.