Sad, So Sad

While I was growing up, there were two times when my heart broke for my parents.
The first was when we took Sandy to Fort Cuter to live.
The second happened when my dad was building the house. I had gone to Detroit with my friend Karen for 2 weeks. Well, the first week Karen's family picked me up in their big winnabego to go square dancing. Karen wouldn't go with them unless I could go. Then we all went back to Detroit. I stayed another week then took the bus home.
When my parents picked me up at the bus stop, no one was talking. For my father, this wasn't unusual, but the rest of us talked all the time. Mom silently shook her head at me when I asked how the house was going. We had to pass the house on our way back to the farm house where we lived.
My dad - and mom - worked for months digging out the basement (with a backhoe for the biggest part, then by hand for the depth and corners ), having cement poured for the floor then putting concrete blocks up for the walls. The floor had been set and a bit of the frame up when I left for my vacation with Karen.
It had rained steadily for a week. The rain undermined the dirt behind the blocks and one wall caved. Half of the floor fell and some of the frame.
My poor family. All that hard work! The money was hard to come by. They had to get a loan that took longer than expected. We were running out of food when the money finally came in.
Daddy had allotted the cost for each part of the house. Now, a big chunk of money was gone.
I never saw my parents look so defeated in my life. They had faced a lot of difficulties and came out on top before. This time, I was worried. They were depressed while deciding whether to go on or call it quits.
Finally it was decided to hire someone to pour concrete walls and build on.
The outcome was a beautiful home they lived in for years.