My shadow appears.
‘Stay inside, Faith.’
‘No!’ She’s ten, determined to perpetuate a five-generation tradition and continue the family farm but I fear it ends with me. Drought. COVID. Overwhelming debts.
I shrug. It’s not a school night.
Daisy struggles. Faith soothes while I pull with each contraction, afraid we’ll lose them both.
Finally, a slippery, squirming heifer calf falls onto the straw as the sun’s first rays peep over the horizon.
‘What will we call her?’
My daughter grins. ‘Hope.’
Oh yes. We have hope.