Under the old mulberry tree, the children sat in a circle, ready to listen to a story. Uncle Augustine adjusted his hat, looked at the horizon, and began.
—I will tell you about the day when a storm reminded us that bridges not only unite paths, but also hearts.
That night, the wind roared hard and the rain beat down on the ground without stopping. When the sun came up, the villagers found that the old wooden bridge that crossed the river had disappeared.
Panchito, a restless boy from the village, ran to Grandma’s house:
—Grandma, the bridge has fallen down!
Grandma left her cup of coffee on the table and, with the calm that characterized her, walked to the river. When she arrived, she found the neighbors gathered, worried and arguing.
—Without the bridge, we cannot take the harvest to the market —said José the carpenter.
—I cannot deliver the bread —added Mrs. Tomasa.
—Our corn harvest is almost ready. How are we going to get it to the mill? We’ll have to wait for the town hall to rebuild it. sighed Don Ramón, the farmer.
Everyone had a different opinion, and the problem seemed bigger than the solution.
The grandmother, who had listened in silence, raised her voice sweetly:
—Listen, children. A bridge is not just wood and nails. It is what unites people. If we work together, we can rebuild it.
The children were the first to react. Lalo and Panchito began to collect branches and wood dragged by the storm. Mrs. Tomasa brought nails. Don Melquiades offered his tools. Don Ramón, seeing the enthusiasm, offered to reinforce the planks.
But there was still a problem: everyone wanted to do things their own way.
—It has to be high —insisted Don Ramón.
—No, no, better wide —said Don Melquiades.
The children, confused, looked at the grandmother.
“When everyone pulls in their own direction, we don’t move forward,” she said with a smile. “Listen to each other, work together and you will find the best solution.”
The adults remained silent. Even Don Melquiades and Don Ramón nodded.
And that was how the magic happened.
The neighbors stopped arguing and began to listen to each other. The children learned to use the hammer, the strongest ones carried logs, and the women prepared fresh water for the workers.
After several days of effort, the bridge was ready.
The grandmother was the first to cross it. She stopped in the center and, with a big smile, said:
“This is not just a wooden bridge. It is a bridge of friendship and solidarity.”
The children looked at the bridge with pride. It had been built with work, patience and, above all, with unity.
From that day on, every time someone crossed the bridge, they remembered Grandma’s lesson: the strongest and best things are not built with wood, but with minds and hearts that work together.
Uncle Augustine finished his story and saw the children smiling.
—So now you know, children. When you see a big problem, don’t get discouraged. Gather your people, listen to others, and build the bridge to the solution together.
The wind blew through the branches of the mulberry tree, as if it were also applauding that story.
From that day on, Grandma shines like a true pillar of wisdom and unity. 😊