Echoes of a Father's Love

 

Only a story can paint the picture of a father’s love, all its dimensions..

Once upon a time at home, when I was 7…

The little one screamed, tears rolling down his right eye, then his left.

He had fallen because of the water I had spilled but neglected to clean up immediately, even after Mum's instructions and pleas.

I tiptoed out of the room, glued to the TV, waiting for that crucial episode of a show that meant everything to me then but has no room now in my memory. 

"CHINONYEREM!" 

His voice thundered from 6ft 2’ above the ground where he stood.

I scrambled down the stairs like the rats that tormented me almost every night.

Swiftly, I grabbed the mop and cleaned the water with three quick, expert swipes.

I had done chores before, leaving them until the last minute, until I heard Mum's voice down the road reprimanding a neighbor's child or Dad's rickety Peugeot 504 pulling up at the junction.

I was a Do-it-sharp-sharp expert.

As I slid to the end of the corridor to put the mop away, I felt the vibration of the staircase and the thud of each step as Dad descended.

I panicked and rushed to soothe the little one, now crying without tears, except for the white trails left behind by the harmattan dried tears. 

Mum began to speak but stopped when she saw Dad, sighed like she had seen a savior and retreated into the kitchen. 

Then, Dad began.

"Are your ears for decoration?" He scowled at me. 

The little one, now quiet, looked from me to Dad, indecision written all over his face, his left arm reaching out to dad while the other held on to me tightly as he bared his new tooth in a half-smile.

Dad's expression softened as he lifted the little one, checking for injuries.

He must have landed on his padded butt, dirty and wet. 

Dad held him close, continuing his lecture.

"Is that TV more important than your brother?"

His question hung in the air, unanswered as an unexpected  knock landed on my head, I was confused.

"You’ll kneel there till the sun goes down," he said sternly before retreating upstairs.

10 minutes  felt like 2 hours, tears streaming down my cheeks,

It was the first time Dad had laid a hand on me or punished me.

Mum saw me crying and joined in, then went upstairs to plead with Dad on my behalf.

Dad returned to my penance arena, kneeling beside me, he helped me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me. I sobbed deeply and said                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   "Da-ddy, I am sor-ry."

He paused for a moment, held my chin up and said, 

"Nothing is more important to me than your mum, you, and your siblings." 

Though unspoken, his heart echoed, "I love you, child, even when you're wrong. I will never love you less."

I hope you get it now, the love that relieves, protects, corrects, forgives and is reliable … the love of my father.

WRITTEN BY KAMSI

https://www.instagram.com/wittykay/