Thoughts of a teen girl

My father and me at the olive groove
EXPERIENCES
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Stavroula Niolaki Feb 14. 2017
by Stavroula Niolaki

I remember it was early June of 2010, dawn,
The sun had just went up with its shiny beams and I was with my father at a small field, next to our home, we were planting a little tree, an olive tree actually -it was my father’s idea- he always had weird ideas.

I asked him «why do we plant it dad? »
«Sometimes there has to be no reason to do something» he said, «we just need to know if it is practical, if it is for us and other individuals, for animals, even for the nature itself! »

Six years later -a lot of time has passed, I sit down the same olive tree and I recall my father’s words. I think that now I understand his old words he told me that day… Long ago! How do I like this word! Makes me remember of the beautiful moments, but still makes me hurt… The reason? I contemplate how quickly these moments passed! When we were all sitting together, the whole family at the table, when I was playing at the dirt with my brother, we would come back home, and our mother would yell at us!

When my father would wake me up every Sunday morning to go to the church and I was proud of him! Because he never let himself believe he is not able to do anything without us due to his handicap, as he was born blind… The worst part was the way people looked at me! They would say to me ‘’Bravo’’ because I was taking care and helped my grandfather! When I told them, he was my father they felt awkward… they looked at me with pity, I didn’t know how to react… I would just smile and leave.

It hurts me to think how quickly years have passed by. How we are not the same… we don’t have family moments anymore and I don’t know why they stopped so suddenly. Everybody has changed, me along them…

I don’t know if I can continue writing, it hurts! I feel that I cannot express my feelings through paper, I can’t get it out of me and this is nagging me… I have cried a thousand tears, I am not so happy and strong after all, as much as I show people I am.   

Maybe, after all, aren’t we what we show­? Maybe, after all, are we trying to show at the others the man we would like to be? I miss these moments, father’s songs, mother’s sweet voice, playing with my brother and beautiful times with my sister. Are we ever living all these together again father, sitting down our olive tree, one dawn? 

Photography: pexels

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