Chap.8- The cherry tree
When I got home I felt really tired and my head felt like a piece of shapeless cotton ball. I only had one thing on my mind- my bed.
I tried to make as little noise as I possibly could as I ran up the stairs, so my father wouldn’t listen to me, and wouldn’t make me answer a list of questions that I bet were running threw his mind. Didn’t he think it was a little bit to late to take the “I’m an involved father in my daughter´s life” train?
When I closed my bedroom door and threw my school bag to the other side of the room, I already had a victory smile on my face right after I noticed my father ,standing there in one side of the room, looking out of the window. My smile faded.
-It´s still there-he said not letting any emotion passing through his town of voice, while he stared out of the window, to the cherry tree covered in snow, that my mom had planted for.. No. I´m not going there. Some things are better unburied.
-It is- I said in the same town of voice as my father.
-How could that small ,fragile tree survive and become so big and so strong?-he asked, more to himself that to me- even after what happened, after the pain and the guilt have consumed us , after our lives have been thrown apart and we find ourselves in a cross row without knowing what to do, or how to do it, how does it stand there, so strong , so bold, showing us that it can be done , that we are nothing but week , because you could do it and I couldn’t and I still cant and sometimes and im has lost as the little girl I held in my harms and whipped the tears of her face, the one to who I promised I would never leave her side, but I did-he was barely holding the tears at the moment-I did..
I didn’t knew what to say, why was he telling me all this know? I turned off the brave and careless part of me because I was tired to be strong and independent. So I did the one thing that I wanted but didn’t do in 11 years.
I hugged my dad.