Thomasville

Father and Son

George sat on a wooden stool in his yard. He was rocking silently and staring out into the empty plain. Whenever he saw an animal, he would sit like a statue and watch it like a hawk. George loved animals, and animals loved him back.

The Pastor periodically checked on his son as he prepared dinner. The meal was meagre, both due to lack of funds and lack of culinary talent. He had never considered the possibility he would outlive his wife, and he had never learned how to cook. How does a man manage to burn porridge? He thought to himself wistfully. At least George would not complain; It was at this notion that Pastor Brady began to cry.

Most parents dread arguing with their children, but the elder had been praying for twenty-six years that George would say a word to him, kind or otherwise. George was to celebrate his birthday the following week, and the elder had lost all hope.

Diana would always reassure him- He will learn to speak on his own time, Geoffrey. We only need to pray and have faith. Her belief was so strong it had impacted him as well, giving him confidence. In the five years since Diana had died, his son had not spoken a single word.

The clergyman felt as though the prayers he had dedicated to his son had been forfeit. Pastor Brady knew he was dying but continued to fight for the well-being of his only child. He was tormented by George, knowing that once he was gone, there would be no one else to take care of him.

Pastor Brady could hear impactful steps thudding against the dirt road. He peeked out his window to see Billie running towards his home; His feet and nose were bleeding. Billie was uncharacteristically dishevelled, and tear streaks were visible on his dirty face. The elder made his way to the injured youth as quickly as he could. William, what happened to you? Is it your mother? Billie did not reply. He just panted and kept stumbling towards him.

The boy began to shiver and weep. The elder gathered him into a hug, and they stood there for a moment before the Pastor began guiding Billie towards the house. Come in, William. I have dinner ready and, we can get you cleaned up. Then you can tell me what happened.

He brought the young man to his dinner table and sat him down. He hit the pot with a metal spoon, creating three loud clangs. George recognized the sounds and came inside to receive his dinner. The meal was silent. The only sound to be heard was contented humming from George. He, at least, did not seem to mind the burnt food.

After eating, Billie had calmed down. He started breathing deeply and could feel himself growing tired. He sat on a chair as the Pastor bandaged and washed his feet. Billie wiped off his face with a damp rag. The cold rag against his face soothed his headache. The bandages dulled the ache from his open wounds and, he breathed a sigh of relief. The Pastor pulled up the chair next to him and sat down. What happened, William?

Your mother loves you, William; Comforted Pastor Brady as he boiled water for tea. I have known your mother since she was seven-years-old and I have never known her to hate anyone, especially not a member of her own family.

Billie rested his head in his hands. William, any devoted parent would never cut off contact with their child over a simple remark, however careless. It is human to be angry, but it is Godly to forgive. Your mother is a pious woman. You may feel as though she does not care for you, but give the matter some more contemplation and time. I believe you will find that your mother is just trying to do right by your family and loves you just as much as your aunt and brother.

Billie rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair. I remember when your mother first brought you to the chapel, the Pastor mused. She was so proud of you; I will never forget the look of joy on her face when she announced that you were going to be named William, after your father.