It’s been ten years since I’d seen him. Now I look at this man- I do not know who he is. I had heard the stories but I refused to believe. He calls me son, his smile is welcoming, his demeanour warm. Who is this man? I do not know who he is. The ever burning fire in his eyes have been replaced with an evergreen garden. His voice soothing- not the thunderous phenomenon I remember it to be. I have an idea who he may be — but I certainly do not know this man.
When I was younger, I could always feel the hostile atmosphere when he walked in a room. His impatience and intolerance to mediocrity would send chills down your spine. His affinity for “hard lessons”, ah yes, I remember. Of course he hit me often. For the slightest of things like having a stutter. He would threaten to kill me as he did so. When I did something to be proud of, he would say “work harder next time” and that was the end of that. The adjectives to describe him I do not have but the ones to describe how I felt around him, I do: fear, fear, fear.
I do not know this man I see sat beside me because the one I knew would always tell me to attack. He would tell me when my enemies slipped up, I should crush them and show no mercy. He taught me that if I am not predator, I will be a prey- no middle ground. He taught me that men don’t cry. He taught me many “as a man”s . He taught me to never accept sympathy, never to give second chances and to be intolerant to anything or anyone that didn’t meet my expectations. He taught me to be a predator.
This man sat beside me, I certainly do not know. He has been speaking for an hour and whilst I hear him, I am wondering what happened to him. His once dark hair with sparse grey patches is now completely grey. His intimidating posture and gait, gone. He speaks so softly. He is telling me many things. First, about his relative that defrauded him but he has let it go and left him to God. About the man who owes him a ton of money he has forgiven him because he clearly has no means to pay. About the person at the bank who was rude to him last Thursday but he let it go because he did not want any confrontation. Wait, what is that I just heard him say? “I’m proud of you, my son” he repeats. I certainly, certainly do not know this man.
I came home to see who could roar louder- the older lion or the younger one; but now I find myself in sole company. He is still speaking and I am itching to interrupt him and ask: “what happened to you, lion?”
