"You had a fever. Burning up. Scorching hot to the touch. The snow was so heavy it had sealed off the mountain roads. The village doctor was too afraid of the storm to come to us."
Joshua stiffened.
"I carried you on my back," I continued, my voice steady. "Trudging through drifts that rose from my knees to my waist. Twelve miles of mountain road to get you to the clinic in town. When we finally arrived, the doctor said if we had been half a day later, the fever would have permanently damaged your brain."
A violent tremor ran through my son's body. The color drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale.
I went on, narrating the events as if they belonged to someone else. A story from a distant lifetime.
"The year you got into college... the day the admission notice arrived, your mother was so happy she wept. But the tuition?" A pause. "We didn't have it. I sold the only yellow ox our family owned. Our livelihood. But I sold it for you."
"Your mother took you to the station. When she came back, she fell ill. She told me she was just tired, but the truth was heartache. She couldn't bear to part with you."
My vision blurred slightly.
"When she passed, she held my hand and said, *'Asher, our boy has made something of himself. I can close my eyes in peace now... Don't work yourself to death...'*"
A breath rattled in my chest. "She told me to enjoy the blessings of having raised a son."
I closed my eyes again, my voice dropping to a whisper.
"But, Son... since you think I've made you lose face..."
"It's fine."
"I will grant your wish."
"Let's sever the relationship."
"Your blessings... I can't enjoy them."
"And I can't enjoy them for your mother, either."
