Let’s go, Dad.

 Let’s go, Dad.


Anton Chekhov writes in one of his stories :


At the bus stop, an old man and a young pregnant woman were waiting together.


The man kept staring at the woman’s round belly, intrigued. Then he gently dared to ask :

— How far along are you ?


The young woman seemed elsewhere, lost in thought. Worry was written on her tired face. At first, she didn’t answer. Then, after a few seconds of silence, she murmured :

— I’m at twenty-three weeks...


— Is this your first child ? he asked.

— Yes, she replied, her voice barely audible.


— Don’t be afraid, he added. Everything will be all right, you’ll see.


She placed a hand on her belly, looked straight ahead, her eyes shining, fighting back tears.

— I hope so… she replied.


The old man continued:

— Sometimes we let ourselves be overwhelmed by worries that, in truth, don’t deserve it...


— Maybe…, she whispered sadly.


He looked at her more closely, with more compassion.

— You seem to be going through a hard time. Your husband… is he not with you ?


— He left me four months ago.


— Why ?!


— It’s complicated…


— And your loved ones? Your family, friends ? No one to support you ?


She took a deep breath.

— I live alone with my father… He’s ill.


A long silence. Then the old man asked :

— Is he still the pillar you once knew as a child ?


Tears rolled down the young woman’s cheeks.

— Yes ..… Even now.


— Even in his condition? What’s wrong with him ?


— He no longer remembers who I am ..…


She spoke those words just as the bus arrived.

She stood up, took a step … Then remembered, turned to the old man, gently took his hand, and said tenderly :


"Let’s go, Dad"

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