The most simple conversations, occasionally, were the hardest to understand
A few days later, Magnífico and his father had a conversation. His father was milking the stoic Lencha, while Magnífico milked the restless Camila. Like her namesake, the cow moved to and fro, wanting to be outdoors wandering around, with little patience for these domestic affairs of the day by day.
“So, I talked to Camila about the land and the house.”
“How’s that,” he answered with a good-natured smile, “are you thinking of inviting her over to spend the afternoons with you?”
“Sure thing, but I’m sort of thinking that I’d like her company for more than just the afternoons, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, I think she’s a sweet, loving girl. When she grows up, she’s gonna be a great woman. You can bet on that! So, what happened?”
“Good, everything fine… But you know something, Pa? Sometimes I feel like we’re talking about totally different things.”
“Start getting used to it, same thing happens when I talk to you Ma. But that’s precisely what gives life such a good flavour, you know what I mean?”
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