Wise friend,
What story do you remember about your father?
Dear friend,
Why this question?
One winter, my father and I went up to the mountains. I was probably six years old. The snow covered everything. The resort where we stayed, had a swimming pool, which was empty and I was fascinated by that gaping hole in the ground, half filled with the whitest snow. Nobody was going to disturb its whiteness. We went walking. My father wore a black winter coat and a French looking cap. We had to be careful not to slip. The snow was quite deep, and we both loved the feeling of pushing our feet in and then pulling them out.
Suddenly, he slipped, and he landed on his back with his hands aside. I remember a flicker of worry in his eyes distinctly. However, I started laughing, with such gusto. I thought that it was beyond funny. I couldn’t stop. I can feel even now, how my whole body was laughing, and there’s this happiness overwhelming me from head top to toe. It wouldn’t have crossed my mind whether he hurt. He didn’t stand up. A few seconds later, he started laughing heartily while still laying down. Then he stood up, unhurt, took my hand, and we continued walking while he joked around. I never forgot his sense of humor. However, he always used to teach me how to think about others, how to behave, how not to hurt others. He never mentioned one negative thing about how I should not have laughed, or even maybe worry. He decided to join in. The joy was too pure. Three years later he passed away.
My son, a father now, would react the same way.
eachword-eachday 