The weak child
Once upon a time, in a small town, a man lived with his two children. The older one was 15 and the younger one was 12. The man, walking in the footsteps of his ancestors, chose the business of selling orange juice to make a livelihood.
Every morning, the man would go out to buy fresh oranges from the market. He would bring large quantities of fruits home in his car for his kids. The kids would help their father make juice: the older one by cutting the fruit into neat pieces and loading them into the machines, and the young one by cleaning the machines and the rest of the home in evening once the work was done.
As time went on, the younger one grew the desire to learn other parts of work and contribute more meaningfully to the business. He spoke to his father one evening about his desire to do what his brother did, but his father refused. There was no need for the young one to operate machines or knives, the elder brother was more than enough to take care of the work, he said.
The refusal only made the child more anxious about learning things. One morning, when the father was away, he tried slicing up some leftover fruits from the previous day. He was clumsy at first but learned quickly. He figured out the controls of the machines as well. He resolved to practice every morning until he got better at it. He thought to himself that his father would have no option but to approve once he got really good at it. And he did, really got better at work, even better than his brother. He even came up with some ideas to reduce waste and work faster.
Beaming with pride, he decided to ask his father’s permission again, but met with a resounding no. He tried to reason, argued that he would be careful and that he might be able to do a better job than his brother. Alas, the father didn’t reconsider his decision. There was really no need for a young child to use knives and machines when the brother was already capable of operating them, he said.
The decision baffled the child. He couldn’t conceive of any logical reason for his father’s refusal. He grew angrier as he thought more about it. He imagined countless discussions with his father, attempting to find a way to reason with him or win him over. If only he knew how to convince his father, but he didn’t. With time, his sadness grew. He struggled to contain his disappointment. Time went on, and he could not live with this arrangement anymore. He could not accept a life where he could not contribute fully, where he could not grow to his potential. He decided to leave the house, forever.
One night, he snuck out in the darkness, never to return. He left a note for his family, explaining why he left and how much he hated being at home. The elder brother asked his father why he never permitted the young one to try other aspects of work. His father sighed, thought deeply and finally muttered with shaking voice, “I never thought he could.”
He wished he could find his child and speak to him. He wished he could explain why he did what he did. He hoped that the child understood that his suffering didn’t originate in the father’s hatred or his own limitations, but from the father’s flawed perception. He wondered if it was too late, whether he could change his perception, shed his fear, whether he could find the child or whether he could treat the older one better. But he wasn’t sure if he could do either of those things.
Notes:
I originally conceived this story as a tale of a father and two sons — with age being the only difference between the kids. Upon deeper thinking it seems to me that it reads better with a father, older son and younger daughter. However, I decided to keep the original story to maintain the subtlety. You can give it another read and let me know if it indeed reads better with a younger girl child.
