I was sixteen when my parents dumbfounded me with the news of a second child. My dad talked to me like I was a baby, telling me I was going to have a little brother or sister and that I would have to help out. And I was fine with being an only child. I had a college application coming up, and I knew full well that with a baby on the way I would need money for diapers and other things, which meant my university would hardly pay for me.
I was an impulsive child, and I hurt my parents greatly by asking why they, two old people, needed it. Why were they trying to ruin my life at such an important time for me?
After the argument, I locked myself in my room and heard my father comforting my crying mother. But I didn’t feel sorry for her.
I had a brother after all, and I loved him dearly, and I went to university. But I never thought it important to apologize to my parents for the scandal and my harsh words. Later I got older and had a wife and a daughter. She grew up alone for a long time, too, because my wife didn’t really want a second child. And then it happened unintentionally, and I felt anxious when we needed to tell Veronica that she wasn’t going to grow up alone anymore. Luckily, she was still relatively young – eleven years old – and her reaction was nothing like mine.
– Yay! Was I going to have a brother or sister? – She threw herself into my arms, and then hurried to hug her mother. – At last!
Her cheers were like a bucket of ice-cold water that had been poured over me from head to toe. I was in my father’s shoes for a moment, and I got the reaction I had dreamed of. And my parents faced my lack of understanding and selfishness.
– Let’s tell Grandpa and Grandma today,” I suggested to my wife and daughter. – Let’s go visit them and share the good news.
I wanted to rehabilitate our moment just a little bit. I also wanted to apologize for something they might have forgotten a long time ago, and I had it rolling around in my head now.
