12/20/2025
At dawn, Eli finished milking the cows alone.
The barn used to be loud with laughterâhis wife humming hymns, his son chasing cats through the straw. Now there was only the steady sound of milk hitting metal and the ache that never left his chest.
Last winter, the buggy slid on black ice. The horse survived. His family did not.
The Amish do not linger in grief the way the English do. There are chores to finish, fields to tend, faith to uphold. Eli rebuilt the fence by spring, planted corn by summer, and bowed his head at church every Sunday. Everyone said he was strong.
But at night, he still set out three bowls for supper before he remembered.
He never spoke of the silence. He simply lived inside it.
And when the neighbors passed his farm, they said,
âEli is faithful. God has tested him.â
What they did not see was the light left burning in the house long after darkâ
as if he still hoped someone might find their way home.
