This wretched day I hoped would never come, but assuredly I knew deep in my heart that this day would dawn and that my heart would be heave laden
As I stand watching walking off into the wide world, for him a brand new and exciting future
But for myself I face a bleak and lonely future even before he set off, he was already far away from the teaching of his youth
Ah! I miss those day, when he was a child full of love and willingness to listen to me, retelling stories I knew so well, but those precious days have long gone
Even that thought causes tears to flow down my face, as these last few years he became so rebellious and disrespectful
We seem to argue about everything these days, he no longer wants to hear my stories of the old days, and says they and I am too old fashion and he is bored with his life here with me
So it was this saddest of days he left to live his own life, though I had intended to give him a generous amount of money later in his life, he insisted on taking it all with him now
I gave it all to him without a second thought, even though he just shrugged and grunted a thank you
Though not what I had wished for, but it was better than expected as he had become so callous of late
Still it would have eased my mind and lessened the pain if he had turn and hugged me or said he still love me
But no such utterances past his lips, and now he was barely visible, as he continued to stride away from home, not once looking back
All too soon I could see him now more, but I continued to look half hopping he might change his mind and come back to me
The dankness of that night fell before I turned and walked back home alone, I was sobbing bitter tears and I entered indoors
The days turned into week swift enough for most others yet each day to me seem to last longer than the last, each new day would find me peering out he distance
Each day with hope in my heart of my son’s return, only to end the day returning home alone and dismayed
So I continued my lonesome vigil, even though many thought me an old fool, I would contiune
In a far off land his young son was now reduced to begging on the streets for scraps to eat. for after only a short while he had squandered all the money his father had given him, as to all those fine new friends who had clung fast to him while he had money
They had all disappeared like the morning dew, they now openly shunned him and despised him making fine sport of is tattered appearance
As hardly anything remained of his once fine clothes, what few he worn were full of holes and as to himself had become unwashed
He had become repulsive to other people who would think nothing of pushing him back into the gutter, if bothering with him at all
His hunger was growning stronger as it had been many days since he had eaten, and he became prone to tormenting thoughts and this day they were stronger than ever
When from nowhere the sweet sound of a child singing, broke through their stronghold, as the words filtered through the son recognised the song from his own childhood days
As the pleasant music lifted his weary spirit, other thoughts of childhood flooded into his mind,
“What a foolish and ungrateful man I have become, hatefully rejecting all that my father taught me, so arrogantly thinking I knew it all and now longer need even the love my father so freely bestowed on me”
“Why did I get so callus and unloving towards my farther?” “Surly I am a wretched and ungrateful creature, who does not even deserve to be called son, I will go now to my farther and plead that he takes me back into his house as the lowest of servants”
No sooner he had said this, he arose and headed towards that place of happy memories called home
As he walked thoughts of is childhood days flooded his mind, along with deep regret for the harsh way he had treated his father in his blind arrogant foolishness
Many weary miles later, he knew he was almost in sight of his father’s house but the exertion coupled with hunger overcame the son and he fell to the ground
From the roof top his farther had seen the distant figure fall and knew in his heart it was his long lost son and rushed to his aid
When he reached where his son lay, he scooped him up in his arms like a new born baby and carried his son all the way back home
Rejoicing and praising along the way, “my son who was dead, is alive once more, make ready to celebrate
This is my own version of the prodigal son, a story I remeber from school days, only I decided to write it from the father’s point of view
storybookwriter 