Three sisters
The trees were turning green and the grasses and thistles had risen after months of being burdened by snow. Skylarks and lapwings danced around the bushes, and shy wind-flowers and marsh-marigolds opened up to the first warmth of the year. The fields were muddy and the clear, blue skies were cut from time to time by the familiar shadow of a stork or two, coming back home after winter.
So muddy were the fields that it took the girls much longer than usual to get to their favourite lake.
Aldona, the eldest sister, had been gifted new sabots that winter; the leather wasn’t cracked and the wooden soles were still shining and clean. And so she had to walk slow, grimacing at every puddle and avoiding any mud, jumping hopelessly from one tuft of grass to another in order to keep them clean.
Bogna, the middle sister, wore her old sabots which she refused to pass down to her little sister; she had to tie the straps with much force so they’d hold her feet and she had to push her foot far into the shoe so she wouldn’t hurt her heels. And so she had to walk slow, grimacing at every step as the pain from chafing and burning grew.
Dagna, the youngest sister, had to wear her oldest sister’s old and battered sabots; they were much too large for her little feet and the straps would no longer hold in place. And so she had to walk slow, as she kept falling out of her shoes as they were grabbed and tugged on by the stubborn mud, yet she did not grimace at all.
The catkins yellowed joyfully on the trees already and the birds sang so nicely, and so neither of the three sisters would pass up the opportunity to visit the lake at last. Mother forbid them from going there in winter, as many a child was lost to the depth of the water as the treacherous ice cracked beneath their feet. And so this spring day was the first day in a very long time when they were allowed to go; and they grew so bored over winter that they welcomed any chance to finally do something that would bring some excitement into their young and restless hearts. It was, after all, their beloved lake — a place where they’d spend all their springs and summers since they could remember. They lived at the edge of the village and hardly had a chance to play with other children; since the earliest age, they only had each other.
And this was hardly a joyful thing.
The three sisters, at last, stood at the edge of the lake. The lake was calm and seemed to enjoy the first spring rays of sun on the soft surface no longer enclosed by ice. The air above the waters was still misty and cold, and a great chill ran down their spines. But with that chill came excitement, too, as they were so bored and lonesome that winter that they could hardly take it. But, at last, spring had come and the girls would spend nearly their entire days at the lake.
Aldona, the eldest sister, would take her carved wooden comb with her, and spend the days combing her beautiful, thick hair. Her long, heavy braid was the source of the greatest pride for her, and many a girl was filled with jealousy when they saw her throw it over her shoulder during the Sunday mass. And so she’d sit at the edge of the lake and look at her reflection, and marvel at her hair as she’d comb and braid it. She’d whistle a song under her breath and see - nor care for - nothing else but her own reflection.
Bogna, the middle sister, would take her doll made from cloth, with beads and ribbons bought during the parish fair, and she’d play with it sitting far away from the other sisters. The cloth of the doll was perfectly clean, as she would never allow anyone else to play with it, and the seams of the doll's arms and legs were not worn out. She’d hum a song under her breath and turn her back on the other sisters, so they could not even see her play.
Dagna, the youngest sister, would take her little horse made of straw, tied with red thread pulled from her mother’s old shawl, and play with it carefully by the water so as not to wet it. It was barely the size of her palm and new straw had to be woven into it from time to time, as her clumsy hands would wear it out as she played. She would also lend the toy to whoever it was that asked, even the cat and the dog, and even to Bogna when she wanted to give her doll a mount for the Easter procession.
And so they played and the days passed, and spring would slowly turn to summer. Their parents worked hard so the girls would not be forced to, and they trusted their daughters to take care of themselves. Their father was busy in the field and in the stables and barns; their mother was busy by the hearth and the spinning wheel. The life in the village was a rewarding one, but tough and busy nonetheless. But the girls knew that change was coming, as their parents grew older and weary: Aldona, the eldest sister, was to marry soon, and strengthen the family with a husband. Bogna, the middle sister, was to start helping in the field and in the kitchen, and strengthen the family with work. And Dagna…
The youngest sister did not know what she was to do, not at all.