This is the sixth post in a series written by Frieda, my mother. These are her memories of her first rambunctious child and their adventures on the mission field. Click this link to start at the beginning.
When Sara was almost two, I went to Managua, the capital, and stayed with my folks to wait for the birth of our second child, while Hal stayed a while longer at our house with Sara. (Managua was four hours away on washboard roads, and the doctor recommended that I go early in case this baby came before the due date as Sara did.)
Hal would call me every day from the only telephone in town, which was at the post office several blocks away from our house. People would stop him and Sara on the street to ask Sara where her mother was, and hear her answer “En Managua.”
But one day Hal gave Sara the phone and I talked to her. She looked puzzled and didn’t say anything. On the way back to the house, someone asked her where her mother was, and she answered, “En el telefono.”