She wakes up when the moon is going down. The loud noise of the crickets reminds her that she is surrounded by the forest. The warmth of the rising sun filters through the leaves and warms the rough wood floors. She knows its time to make bread. The chirping has changes to bird singing. The stove heats the air and the smell seeps through every crack into the forest. My mom goes outside to take a shower under the water tank and suddenly a sporadic rain mingles with her drops. She runs into the house and dries up with the heat of the stove. I wake up and realize that its morning. The sun is up and there is fresh bread on the table. I can see that my mom is planting an aloe vera plant in the dirt floor of her living room. She somehow knows the perfect place for it to grow.