TITLE: Is your child hungry?
By esther robinson
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
SEND ARTICLE TO A FRIEND
Please let me know if there is life in the characters and also a punch in the message put forth.
Is your child hungry?
Hadasah peeked frankly into Robin’s eyes. “Why don’t you forgive? Please forget your past and keep progressing ahead.” The blood that rushed downwards suddenly changed course and gushed through the optic nerves making both his eyes shimmer and sparkle like wine. Like an out of control audio system the volume of his voice touched the peak. The volcano of Vesuvius that had gone for a vacation suddenly became very violent. “How do you expect that from me? Tell me why should I do that? Just understand this. I am not a kid anymore. Will you erase the scar?” Muttering something, he slammed the door behind and entered his private room even before the words, “I understand but..” could slowly and silently surge from her heart. Hadasah sank on the sofa that stood close by not knowing her next step.
Robin never came out the room until the close of day. In the meantime, Hadasah prepared lemon tea and placed the snacks that he loved. When he came out, she found his face swollen and wet. Perhaps he had been sobbing profusely. Every incident honestly became a hornet’s sting that pierced his heart. Forcing a smile he sat down. “Come Honey! Let’s have tea.” Hadasah spoke within. “I dare not go over the matter again. He is hurt. It is easy talking about forgiving but in reality the whole process is painful.” She poured the tea and they talked about matters that were less demanding.
Robin is a very affectionate but reserved person. His lips would smile even if blood dripped from his heart. After family prayers both of them retired early to bed that day. Robin looked at Hadasah with much concern. “Honey! I want to discuss something with you.” She had been eagerly waiting for this moment. “Go ahead! I am very much with you.” He lowered his voice. “Please try to understand me. I asked my mom if she would take care of Graceia but she blindly refused. Therefore, I requested her great grandmother whether she would play the roll of being a baby sitter. She gladly accepted and without hesitating came here. You know all this don’t you?” Expecting her response he paused for a moment. “Yeah! I do.”
Then he continued drawing her close to him. “I call my grandmother as my mother because it is she who took care of me. She is a widow. Grandpa left for heavenly abode when I was about eleven years old. My parents dislike me calling her ‘mother’ but I can only think of her as my mother.” “I understand your plight.” Silence surrounded them for a moment. Once again he spoke recalling an incident. “We are three children to our parents. I firmly believe that begetting a child is a natural thing but bringing up a child alone determines who you are as a parent. They had no care or concern whatsoever about their children’s needs, schooling, welfare and future. The never saved even a penny for us. My elder sister Grace was left under the care of my uncle. My grandma took care of my younger brother and myself from infancy. I can vividly remember this incident.”
Mixed feelings of both sadness that this had happened and enthusiasm of remembering were scattered over his face. “For the first time, along with my grandpa and elder sister Grace, while yet in the kindergarten, we traveled about eight hundred miles in a steam driven rail coach for visiting my father. Believe me, after my first birthday, now I am about eight years old, this is the first time I am going to see my father. Anxiously I waited for that moment.” He smiled. “My father had a bike then. Vehicles such as that were very rare in those days. I stood looking at it with wide-open eyes enthralled over the fact that I would have a trip home in it. I built castles in the air thinking about how I would share this with my friends Jack, Jim and Joel. Behind my papa was seated my sister and after her my grandpa. I was made to sit before my papa who was riding the bike. Unaware and in overwhelming joy, I placed my leg on the silencer and the heat that emanated touched my tender skin making me scream. Now I realize, it would have been wonderful if my mouth was shut. My father gave me a whacking, - a terrible stroke I would rather call it a forceful punch. I least expected the blow. His mouth poured all the anger harbored there. “Don’t you know that you should not keep your leg there!” I all innocence I stood strangely looking at my papa not knowing what to do. I expected a hug from my father. Instead I received a blow. From that moment onwards I could not take his form nor could I call him my father. It still hurts me. Don’t ask me to forgive my parents. God forbid, but I consider them even little lesser than a bitch and dog.”
Hadasah searched for words. Then she mumbled. “I understand your frame of mind sweet heart, but did you ever speak your mind to them when you were old?” The answer darted as swift as a spear. “I did. The funniest part of everything is that my father remembers no such incident at all. You see, it is fresh in my mind but there is no trace of it in his.” Hadasah heaved a sigh. “Whatever it is, I understand that you come from a dysfunctional home and have been yearning for love, warmth and affection. Anyway, try forgiving. God will bless you. Above all, remember, if not for them, you are not here.” Temporarily Robin had unloaded a burden that he had been carrying for years.
He took my hand in his and clasped it. “Honey! The wound is still raw. I find it difficult to forgive my parents.” The tears that came dripping from our eyes abruptly halted. “Don’t worry! We will make this petition known through prayer. The Almighty God will surely make a way for you.” Robin kissed Hadasah. “Good night” Hadasah could not sleep. She looked at her daughter Graceia. The words echoed, “Parents Beware! Check whether your child is hungry for love.”
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.