Running Away


There was once when I was a teenager, I got into a massive argument with my mum over something trivial. I got so mad that I actually packed my bags and was about to run away. I had made up my mind and was tired of the constant pressure and stress at home (and at school) so I took the keys and opened the door, half expecting my mum to stop me from going. She just stood there watching. My dad on the other hand was the one who tried. He said, "Where are you going?" I replied, "I’m running away." "Where to?" I replied, "I don’t know, will plan when I’m on the road." He observed me and then said, "Here, take an umbrella. It looks like it’s going to rain. When you’re done, come back home, the door’s always open." I took the umbrella, didn’t thank him, instead I replied, "No. Keep it closed. I won’t come back" With my backpack slung on my shoulder, I walked out of the house not turning back. For a day and a half I was outside home, pondering on where to run away to. But my dad’s image kept popping into my head, his words kept playing in my mind, "When you’re done, come back home, the door’s always open." I started getting mad at him for being too nice. Why dad? After all I’ve done, you still give in? Why be so nice? I started thinking of him as a weak person, a coward, a fool. I tried my best hating him and mum, and even pretended to. But his image and the emotions in his eyes told me everything. I came back home that night. Dad was the first to open the door and the first thing he asked was, "I knew you’ll come back. Mum made you dinner." I never hugged him nor did I thank mum for dinner, but that day, I realised no matter how much we try pushing away our loved ones, they’re like pendulums that keep coming back after each push. The more harder we push, the more faster they swing back to us. I never got a chance to ask dad why he was so nice to me. But I didn’t had to. It was love.


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