The sky was clear. The winds have halted. The sun, scorching hot. It was the season of the summer harvest.

Boran, with sickle in hand, was busy harvesting the crops. His face was covered in dirt, his body soaked in sweat, his back in pain and his mouth dry as a desert. He was very tired. But he knew that it was his duty, his responsibility, as a man, as a husband an as a father.

With his albow, he wiped the sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Huuuuu...." he sighed. He stood still for a few seconds to catch his breath. Then he continued his hard work.

Just as he was busy arvesting in the field, he heard Monica shouting "Harold!".

For a moment, the fatigue and pain seemed to have gone away. He stoop up straight and looked in the direction of his wife's voice. And there he saw little Harold holding a stick of bread an running away from his mother.

This view made him smile. It seems as if their little Harold was stealing the bread again. But it wasn't necessarily stealing.

"There he goes again, heading to the local beggers." Boran muttered to himself.

Little Harold have always been taking the bread baked by his mother and went to feed the unfortunate.

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It was a good deed. But also a bad deed at the same time. Boran thought that it was about time he talke to Little Harold about the bread. He was already seven years old after all. And then he continued to finish his work for the day until sunset.

Nightfall has come. The room was dark.They had no candles left. The only source of light was the kitchen stove. The dinner table was silent besides the clanks of tableware. Little Harold was sitting at the far end of the table with a sulking face. Monica also was sitting at the opposite end of the table with an expressionless face.

"Seems like these two have had another "debate"." Boran thought to himself, awkwardly sitting on the other side of the dinner table facing the two.

"Ahem.." Boran coughed as a sign that he was going to start talking.

"So, Harold, do you mind telling me about today's incident?" Boran started. There was no reply.

Hence, Boran continued.

"You should know that it is wrong to steal..."

"I didn't steal anything!" Harold cut Boran's speech.

"I was only giving them out to help the poor. Is that such a bad deed?" Harold asked.

Boran sat straight and looked at Harold. Little Harold knew that his father was now in a serious mood.

"Son," Boran said in a clear distinct voice. " I know that you want to help those in need. I know that you have no ill intent."

Boran quickly ate another spoonful of Monica's vegetable stew and then continued.

"But still, taking from one to give to another is not always going to work out is it?"

Little Harold understood what his father meant. They themselves are not a financially stable family. His father's hardwork ,unyielding sense of responsibility, is just enough for ends meet. He understood that his actions benifited those in need, but also takes away from the ones he love at the same time.

Finally, in a sad teary voice, Little Harold replied "I'm sorry father." Tears slowly starting to fall down his cheeks.

Boran stood up and walked next to Harold. He knelt down and with his hands full of cuts and bruises from the farm work, wiped the tears off Harolds face. He pat Harold on the back and said.

"Now now, there is no need to cry. I am not angry or upset at you. I just want you to understand that everything has a price. Nothing in this world is free."

Harold nods and started wiping the rest of his tears. Boran looked up and signaled Monica.

Monica, also heartbroken to see her son in tears, came up close and tightly embraced Harold.

"Hush now little Harold". she said in a calm gentle manner. Harold also held his mother's warm hands and fully submitted into her embrace.

Boran smiled. He stood back up and left the mother and son for a moment of bonding. The rest of the night passed with a warm ,loving sensation.