I used to go to school with my sister every morning
Until that fall.
Rain lasted for ten days
Fields flooded
Crops drowned
The farmland we rely on for living
Gave us nothing.

That fall
I was ten.
My sister was twelve.
One day,
Awakened from a long afternoon nap,
We were gathered
In the dim dirty cottage
Mom put away her lunch-
Half-boiled potato and a few pieces of cabbage
Pickled from last winter.
She walked down to the field,
gathered two straws in hand
Then clenched her fist.
“ Our family is too poor to have two school girls.
You two-----
Whoever draws the longer straw
can go to school tomorrow.
The other one
will stay at home
and help me with farming.”

Like a thunder burst in my ears
Her words stunned me
Standing on the filthy brick floor
I lift my right hand out of my old jacket,
Shaking.
I fingered a straw and
Pulled it out of her hand;
This simple move
Exhausted all my strength and breath
I held it tightly
with eyes closed.
Sweaty palms opened
Muscle tensed
Breath held.

Mine was longer.

The next day
I went to school.
My sister did not.

The day after the next day
I went to school.
My sister did not.

We will belong to different worlds
Like two straight lines
Passed the point of intersection.
Was it poverty
Or fate?
Or just because I got the longer straw and
My sister did not.