—Ana! Water! We have water!
Ana looked with enormous eyes.
—Where did he come from, Mom?
—God’s, daughter.
That night Teresa didn’t sleep. She watched the spring gush forth endlessly and thought of the women walking with buckets, of the thirsty children. And she asked herself a question that weighs more than gold: is a blessing meant to be kept or shared?
She decided to share it.
He dug channels, let the water flow. Within days, the garden began to turn green. Within weeks, his plot was the only one alive for miles around.
The neighbors changed their perspective.
Doña Petra returned.
—Where did you get the water?
—Digging deep —Teresa replied.
—Would you sell it?
Teresa denied it.
—I’m not selling. Anyone who needs it can come.
