You are a better storyteller than I am. You should not be wasting your talent.
My father wanted me to live the life he had lived. My father wanted me to be a storyteller, just like him. But I did not want my life to be a carbon copy of my fathers life. I did not want to dance my life to the music that my father has set for me.
I wanted a different life. I had different dreams from my fathers. I did not want to be stuck in the small town where I was born and raised. I wanted to travel. I wanted to explore the big world out there. My father was not happy with my decision.
I am old and I need you, my father said.
It is a job of every son to make his father happy, he added.
I turned deaf ears to my fathers pleas.
Let me live my dreams, father, I said.
I walked out from the house I grew up in. As I was waiting for the bus to take me to the big city, I saw my mother was running towards me.
What happened I asked while holding my mother who was breathless.
My mother said: Your father suffered a stroke after you left. I did not waste any time. I rushed to see my father.
Father, please open your eyes, I said.
I am not going anywhere. I will do whatever you ask me. Just open your eyes Just open your eyes Just open your eyes.
My father had turned a deaf ear to my pleas. He only opened his eyes two weeks later. But my father was not the same man. His speech was slurred. My father could not use his right hand any more.
My mother said: Everyone comes to our caf because they want to listen to your fathers stories. As your father can no longer talk properly, people will stop coming to our cafe. Our business would be affected. Our caf will be closed.
My mother had tears in her eyes. I hugged my mother. I assured my mom: I am here, mom. I will take over my fathers job in the caf. I will tell stories to the customers. I make sure the caf remains open.
The caf attracted more customers with me being the storyteller. In some ways, my father is right. I am a better storyteller than my father was.
My dreams to see the big world out there disappeared into thin air. I did not have the heart to leave my parents in this terrible condition.
You should get married, my mother said to me.
At least, let your father see his first grandchild before he dies.
I did what my mother told me. I got married. I have a son. Indirectly, my son had brought a lot of joy and a new kind of energy to my father. My father was determined to get cured. My father tries his best to improve his speech and regain the use of his right hand.
I want to live longer because I want to see my grandson grow up and tell stories, my father said.
When you are younger, I taught you the art of storytelling. I want to do the same thing to my grandson. I want to teach my grandson the art of storytelling. We are born to tell stories. We are a family of storytellers.
My mother was grateful to see my father happy.
God has listened to my prayers, my mother said.
God is working a miracle here. Your father is getting better and better. He can talk properly now. Slowly, he is starting to use his right hand.
The only one who was not happy in this house is me. I am stuck in a life I did not want. But I convinced myself that some dreams are not meant to come true.
