Titre
I sit in a slight daze of thoughts, unaware of the pair of eyes that are staring at me.
“T.”
I jerk to face my padre.
“T, if there was a poisonous snake here, and I told you not to catch it but you insisted to catch it with your bare hands thinking yourself capable, would you be considered a fool or a brave?”
I give a calculated smile. “A fool.”
He nods. “Now, if I told you the reason why you shouldn’t go near the snake, and you still insisted on catching it to PROVE my reasoning, what would you call yourself?”
“Fool that learned something the hard way.”
He nods again.
“If I told you T, the reason and the fact that you’re going to learn your lesson the hard way and still you insisted to catch it with your bare hands, what are you?”
I scoff. “A stubborn fool.”
He stares at me with an intenseness that is hard to look away from. “At least you can answer it correctly.”
It’s not that I don’t understand. I know his thoughts as well as I know mine. He has my sympathy, my compassion, my obedience… a daughter’s sometimes senseless love for her father.
He, as the father, has the protectiveness (perhaps adding an “over” to the phrase wouldn’t mar the truthfulness of it either) required of his character. (I suppose I got my gift and love of metaphors from him too…)
And as we fight, yes! we fight!, titles arise.
Titles that precede or follow.
Warrior. Fighter. Brave.
Why? Oh, in sake!, why!?
What do they mean tied me!?
I see no courage in this.
I see no victories.
I see no trophies.
I see no glories.
I see pain instead.
I see heartfelt sears.
I see empty frontiers.
I see permanent smears.
We stand against each other with equal difficulty.
We attack each other with equal hesitancy.
We wound each other in equal degrees.
How could only I acquire such titles? Why not him too? Why not!? He deserves all that I do! Or I deserve nothing at all…
No. No. No.
A war between two rights is beyond titles.
Applaud not. Praise not. Honor not.
Watch. Learn. Sympathize if you will to (compassion is so very appreciated!).
And hope, for the sake of being human, that such a duel never occurs in a lifetime that is yours.
“Does it mean then Daddy, that I can live it too?” I spread a sly smile creeping wider.
He gives me a hard smile. “Perhaps, my stubborn fool.”
Ay, the stubborn fool.
The title meant to be.
Perchance.
