Time had passed. The more time went by the more he grew reminiscent of his past. He struggled to believe and accept that this was all it had come down to. His own thoughts were not kind to him. Every time he looked in the mirror he was reminded that conflict within was because of his evil brain and an angel heart that kept him in the dark yet anointed. He believed he was born a saint and with every sin that had found a home in him, he still wanted to be holy. He knew time had come for him to amend the wrongs he had done.
With great difficulty, he recalled the day his father had walked out on them. To his memory came floods on floods of tears from the mother as the dad drove away. She would have given everything to have her husband stay home. She did not need a better house nor was there need for more money. If it came to that, she was willing to be swallowed up in poverty if it meant keeping her husband. The husband just walked away from her. The pain of his mother rested not in raising the kids alone, it was founded on the reality that the one she loved had withdrawn from her. Inconsolable.
He watched as the mother tried, to her best, not break apart. She summoned all her strength to avoid the victim mentality. Unprovoked and uncalled for, he walked up to the mother and promised never to leave her. Now, he sits looking at the mirror. Should he hate his own soul or that he is the spitting image of his father? He hurts as he remembers walking out on the mother, just like his father did. He remembers the tears and the pain and the reopening of wounds. Would it be right for him to go back to her?
Yet, it did not stop there. On his phone lay hundreds of unreplied messages from the daughter. Voice notes of the daughter breaking down in tears. He had been on the news one too many times and though the daughter had never met him, she knew so much about him based on the stories she heard. Just like her mother, the daughter did not want money or anything material. She just wanted a father. She had been told she is beautiful by everyone, she just wanted to hear it from the father. She had been told she talks and walks just like the father; she just wanted to talk and walk with the father.
There he sat. Looking at the mirror. The shame of a man he had become chewed up his esteem. The guilt within swallowed him whole; consumed him without a hint of relent. Is this what his life had come to? Then a notification came through his phone. It was not from the mother, neither was it from the daughter. It was from the wife. He opened the message, it was simple, “We can talk this out, come home!”
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Imma Say It Like This ... 