It was sunset on the eve of the Cambodian New Year. The sky glowed the red-orange color of the lilies in the garden. I heard a bird with a distinctive call that I had not heard since the months before when the rains had ceased.
In the afternoon I had seen for the first time there, a large black and orange butterfly with two white spots, one on each wing.
My landlord's wife had come to visit me while I was washing my shoes at the water barrel. She had the baby in her arms, dressed in the same color as the lilies. Her two other children stood beside her, dressed all in new clothing.
I made sure the house was cleaned and dusted.
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