I was jolted out of my reverie by my mother’s voice. It rang in my ears like a bell, striking my mind like a tuning fork. I ran to meet her, and she gave me a quizzical look. “Lost in thought again? I wonder when you’ll be out of your imagination meadow,” she said, handing me the baskets while she carried the cutlasses and hoes. Together, we set out on our journey to the farm. The road was deserted, I could hear the sound of our every footstep.