Suddenly, I remembered my childhood with my father. I saw a shadow resembling a large flashlight. Yes, after thinking about it, it looked like a sokle.
Unexpectedly, I entered that shadow and met my father. I felt immense joy seeing him with a faint smile. His face was radiant, clean-shaven, and he wore splendid, sparkling clothes.
“Is that really you, Dad? Why do you look so young and handsome?” I thought.
He hugged me warmly, smiling occasionally. Yet, he didn’t speak much, as if uninterested in catching up after all these years apart. Nevertheless, I was happy to see him, fulfilling my longing for him.
It felt like he was giving me a ride on a motorcycle he bought years ago by selling some cattle. I didn’t ask where we were going; the moment was too joyful.
After a while, during our journey to an unknown destination, my mother suddenly appeared, chasing after us. She ran as fast as she could.
“Dad, why didn’t you bring Mom?” I asked.
But he didn’t answer.
My mother kept calling my name, chasing us relentlessly.
“Dad!”
He remained silent. I looked back at her with a heavy heart. Suddenly, my throat felt tight, my eyes burned, and I couldn’t hold back my tears. My heart ached hearing her calls.
“I want to be with you, Mom,” I told him.
Even though I shouted, there was no response from him. He continued driving. I jumped off the motorcycle out of pity for her. I wanted to hug her immediately.
Then, my memory brought me a realization that my father had died when I was seven.