I haven’t heard from my father in years, and then, all of a sudden, he appeared at my doorstep, asking to move in with me and my wife. My answer? No, way, you either pay rent or get out! However, my story took a different turn later on.
When I lost my mother, I was still a teenager. My dad struggled to adapt to the role of a mom and a dad and things seemed fine for some time, but when I turned 18, he told me I needed to find a job and pay rent if I wanted to continue living in the house.
His words shocked me. I didn’t want to pay rent to my own father. “I’d rather stay in a dorm once I enrolled university than pay you rent,” I said, but then another shock followed. My dad said he couldn’t afford to pay my tuition, so if I was to attend university I had to either work or get a loan.
None of that seemed like a good option, so I decided to leave home and never look back.
And now, after many years, he was there again.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Son, I need help. I don’t have a place to stay,” he said.
Of course you can stay with me, but only if you pay rent,” I said. Those words seemed to be waiting to get out of my mouth, as if they had been trapped there for far too long.
“But I… I don’t have any money,” my dad said. “Then you are not welcome here,” I said, slamming the door.
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