The Widow's Cloth Bundle on the Wedding Night

In the spring of 2002, I walked into the childless farm village with a woven plastic sack on my back. The matchmaker called out behind me: "Go on in. You're lucky to be getting a wife at all." I was twenty-six then. No land, no money, no future. Just a chill running down my spine. That year I didn't know I was walking into more than one woman's home.