Tuesday, November 13, 2007

A Walk With My Father

My father took me for a walk this evening. A long walk, he said it was going to be. And it took me a really long while to see that we were at the back of the mountain. You know the mountain - that big thing that gets in the way of your vision, your everything. It was nice to see what was going on on the other side of the mountain. For many nights now I've been confused by the noise, the rumble, and the occasional shaking. I could not understand all of it from this side of the mountain. It's so in-your-face, you'd think everything else should be that way too.

I never knew there was a way to the other side of the mountain, but my father did. And it was indeed a long walk. But there I was, watching everything that was going on at the other side of the mountain. A major counstruction was going on. So this is what all the noise was about, I thought. There were a few buildings already up. It wasn't until my dad told me that I realised that the uniqueness of these buildings. It's like nothing I've ever seen. My father of course has seen these designs, but he still talked about them with sincere excitement.

We reach a stream, by a big plain land. The atmosphere was serene and calm. The blue sky accompanied with the formation of the clouds was as beautiful as ever. We just hang out there for a while to just soak everything in. Funny how there's peace and beauty at the other side of the mountain.

On the way back, we found ourselves at a tiny slope. It was steep, but I remember how my brother and I along with some neighbourhood kids would glide down such slopes, back in the day where the trees and wild grasses didn't cover the foot of the mountain. And when there's rain, we would love to just watch water flowing down from the cracks in between. And today I stood there asking myself: Where is the courage that I had when I was a boy? Is it wisdom that stops me from sliding down the slope, or has fear gripped me? I finally decided that the best way to answer the question is to just attempt the slope. The glide was a success, but I couldn't evade the stone that caused a small cut on my shin.

There were no words exchanged when we got home, but I believe both my father and myself knew it was a special long walk. Memory of the walk would be good enough to keep me strong while facing the mountain. And of course the cut would serve as a good reminder too.

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