The scar

When the war ended, we stayed in the village for a while longer. Here at home in Ioannina we had left my grandmother who was very strong. When my father returned from the army, he took a carriage from Ioannina and came to the village to pick us up. When I saw him, I was very scared, because he was tall, dirty, with a scar on his forehead. I ran in terror and said “I’m not going to him!” My mom was upset and told me «That’s him, go” but I hid. From there I heard my mother teasing him and telling him because he was a very quiet man: “well my husband, I believe that you haven’t thrown a single rifle, who knows where you hid and you became like that” and they would laugh and laugh…

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