After months in the army, Tomás Herrera finally returned home. On the bus he reread his daughter Alma’s shaky letter,

full of longing. Stepping off, he followed a sudden cry: Alma wailing from the pigsty. Heart racing, he sprinted

through familiar dusty streets and found her curled in straw, clothes soiled and tears streaming.

He dropped to his knees and whispered, “Alma, my little one,” and she rushed into his arms. He carried her inside,

cleaned her, and listened as Miriam, his wife, admitted she hadn’t known how to manage. Tomás answered with quiet resolve.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. That evening they sat together, exhausted but joined, the sun casting long shadows across the room.

The pigsty became a new symbol—not shame but resilience and hope. Tomás understood that some battles are fought at home: in mending hurts,

rebuilding trust, and being present. Distance and hardship had tested them, but their reunion rekindled strength. With Alma and Miriam by his side,

he felt ready for the work ahead. He realized the most important victories are quiet—wins of love, patience, and family.

They vowed to face the small, everyday battles together—one steady step at a time, with open hearts.