Time, Tide, And Selfishness

Every tiny wish that was met, occasional gifts that never stopped even in the face of adversity, were easily forgotten.

The late nights that he would trudge back home after a long day, and would first ensure that she wasn’t cold by putting on the blanket, never seem to have happened.

What more could he have done? He had toiled away his life for her. Learnt better cooking, never failed to make her breakfast, never failed to make sure that her every day was comfortable and filled with love.

Even in his retirement years, he couldn’t bear to show his vulnerable side to his daughter. He turned his back to her, blinking his tears off trying hard not to listen to how irresponsible and incapable he is.

What was his fault? Didn’t he happily give in all, all the years, all his savings, for his daughter? The last of his savings he had left, without an ounce of reluctance, he spent it all for her marriage. The only promise that his late wife had asked of him, couldn’t he even keep that? Was he a failure as a father?

He was jolted out of his thoughts by continuous screams behind him. “Are you even listening? Can you, for once, be responsible in your life? Why have you shown up here at my home without calling? Don’t tell me you want to move in?”

The old man with his moist eyes kept walking further and further away from those questions until he couldn’t hear her voice anymore.

How was he to explain that he hadn’t come because he was penniless or that he isn’t in his prime years and needed help? No. He was driven by the affection of his only blood. The need to see his child’s face. To know for himself that she is doing well. 

But this time, he didn’t stop to look back. He could feel, with certainty, that his wife would have agreed. And so he walked, walked into oblivion for his daughter.

He looked at the stars, remembering his wife, her warmth, and he chuckled wiping off a happy tear. He said out loud, “It isn’t too late to be selfish, to live for yourself.”