A Father's Simple Dream

Published June 26, 2024
In a bustling city, where skyscrapers touched the sky and the streets were alive with the hum of endless activity, an elderly man arrived from the countryside. His journey was long and tiring, but his heart was full of hope and love as he anticipated reuniting with his son, Tom, who had moved to the city for work years ago.

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As the father navigated the busy streets, he marveled at the grandeur of the cityscape. The towering buildings and the constant rush of people were a stark contrast to the quiet, simple life he knew back in the village. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and wonder, but behind them lay a deep longing—to reconnect with his son, whose visits had become increasingly rare over the years.

Finally, he arrived at the sleek office building where Tom worked. The father’s heart pounded with both excitement and nervousness. He hesitated for a moment at the entrance, his worn hands clutching a small bag containing a few simple gifts—a bundle of fresh herbs from their garden, a jar of homemade pickles, and a pair of hand-knit socks. With a deep breath, he walked in and was directed to Tom's office on the 20th floor.

The office was abuzz with activity. Phones rang incessantly, keyboards clattered, and employees moved swiftly from one cubicle to another. Amidst the chaos, Tom sat at his desk, his eyes glued to the computer screen, fingers flying over the keyboard. The father approached tentatively, taking in the sight of his son, who seemed so different from the boy who had once played in the fields and climbed the trees of their village.

“Tom,” he said softly, his voice trembling with a mix of pride and apprehension.

Tom glanced up briefly, his expression a mixture of surprise and impatience. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

“I came to visit you,” the father replied, his smile warm despite the cool reception. “I wanted to see how you’re doing and spend some time together.”

Tom’s eyes flicked back to his computer screen. “I’m really busy, Dad. There’s a lot going on at work. Couldn’t this wait?”

The father's smile faltered, but he pushed on, trying to make his tone light. “I just wanted to ask you something. How much do you make per hour at your job?”

Tom sighed, exasperated. “Why does it matter? I make about 150,000 VND per hour. Why?”

“Oh, it’s just something I was curious about,” the father said, nodding. “Could you lend me 100,000 VND?”

Tom’s frustration bubbled over. “Why do you need money? You and Mom are fine back home, aren’t you? I’ve been sending money for your expenses.”

The father looked down, feeling a pang of guilt for troubling his son. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. If you’re busy, I’ll just leave.”

Tom huffed, pulling out his wallet. “Here, take the 100,000 VND. But seriously, what do you need it for?”

The father took the money, his hands shaking slightly. He then reached into his pocket, pulling out another 50,000 VND in crumpled bills. “I have 50,000 VND here,” he said, placing it gently on Tom’s desk alongside the money he’d just received. “With the 100,000 VND you gave me, I now have enough to buy one hour of your time. Can you spare that hour to come home with me and visit your mother? She’s been sick, and she misses you terribly.”

Tom’s irritation evaporated in an instant. He stared at the money on his desk, then at his father, whose eyes were filled with a quiet, pleading hope. The weight of his father’s request sank in, cutting through his work-induced haze. Guilt washed over him as he realized how much he had neglected his family in his pursuit of success.

“Dad, I’m so sorry,” Tom said, his voice cracking. He stood up and walked around his desk, embracing his father tightly. “I’ve been so caught up in work that I forgot what really matters. I’ll come home with you, and we’ll visit Mom together.”

Tears glistened in the father’s eyes as he returned the embrace, feeling the warmth of his son’s presence. “Thank you, Tom. That means more to us than you’ll ever know.”

Later that day, Tom took a leave from work, much to the astonishment of his colleagues. They watched as he walked out of the office, his arm around his father’s shoulders, a small bag of gifts in his other hand. The city’s frenetic energy seemed to dim in the face of the quiet, profound bond between the father and his son.

As they traveled back to the village, Tom felt a mixture of shame and relief. The familiar sights and sounds of his childhood home began to fill him with a sense of peace he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. When they arrived, his mother’s face lit up with joy, despite her frail condition. The small, cozy house resonated with the warmth of family and love, a stark contrast to the cold efficiency of the city office.

Tom spent the evening sitting between his parents, reminiscing about old times, sharing laughter, and simply enjoying each other’s company. He realized that the hours he had been spending on work could never replace the irreplaceable moments with his family.

That night, Tom made a vow to himself. He would visit more often, call regularly, and ensure that his parents knew how much they meant to him. He had almost lost sight of the most valuable things in life, but his father’s simple request had brought him back to what truly mattered.

In the end, the father’s small dream wasn’t about the money—it was about reconnecting with his son, about bridging the distance that life had created, and about cherishing the bonds of family that time and neglect had threatened to erode.


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