Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Mentor Of My Life – My Dad


It was a fine Sunday morning, the crisp air from the woods fills my lungs as I was walking on the garden of St. Louisiana Home Care. After two weeks of busy schedule in the office, pile of paper works and a deadline for Baton Rouge Metropolitan Airport architectural design at last I am free.
I passed through the corridor and everyone seated on the bench greeted me with the warmest smile. The gray hair and the lines on their faces shows how years had passed and yet you can see in their eyes the contentment of a happy life.

I headed straight to room 802 to visit the mentor of my life – my dad.

I knock three times, rotated the doorknob, push the door wide open and turn to the left corner of the room where my dad would usually sit on his favorite arm chair. I see no one.

As I step inside I smell the old perfume that I know no one use except for my dad. I was wondering where he would be. “Did he forget that I’ll be here today? Oh! I’ve missed two Sundays, maybe his thinking that I’m not going to be here and just decided to have a walk outside.”

I’ve left the door opened and a nurse passed. I’ve called him and asked, “Where’s my dad?”
“He’s in the clinic sir” he answered.

“Why? What happened to him?” my blood suddenly runs cold.
“Nothing sir, it’s his monthly check up today.”

Feel relieved I thanked him and decided to get back and just wait him inside.

I sit on his chair to see the beautiful scenery of the wild forest of Louisiana. It is just beside the window which is dressed with peach curtain. Dad loves that color as it is the color of the curtain that mom would usually put on all of our windows at the old house. There’s also a table where three books where placed and a lampshade.

I feel a little bored and picked one of the books that dad reads. As I was about to flip on the first page, a paper slip and fell on the floor. I picked it and saw that it is a note.

It’s been two weeks and you didn’t visited me, I know you’ve been upset because I kept on asking you about the birds singing on the wood for 16 times.
For the first five you answered me with a loving voice, “Those where birds singing in the woods dad.”
I’ve asked another five and I’ve noticed that your voice sound more deep and irritated. I added more and you’ve been upset. You said “Those were birds dad! Birds! How many times would I answer the same question?”
Then I stopped.
I remember my little boy when he was three. The two of us were on woods when he heard the sound of the birds. For 16 times he ask me over and over of what was that sound and for 16 times I’ve patiently answered “Son, those were happy birds singing in the woods.”

The tears fell on my cheeks and the door opens wide and there I saw the mentor of my life – my dad.


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