…fishing rod. Long, heavy, completely packaged, with a store label on it.
— What do you think? It’s the latest model. I’ve already tested it, it’s incredible! It was on sale, but it’s from a reputable brand. Now we can go together, father and daughter, like we’ve never done before! he said enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world.
I was frozen, my hand on the rod’s handle. I was trying to understand what was happening. On my birthday, after he forgot me, after he broke my heart into pieces… he got a gift for himself. Not for me.
— Dad, I don’t fish, I said quietly, without looking him in the eye.
— Well, that’s why! To get you started! Look, maybe you’ll like it. It’s relaxing, you know? It gets you out of the house… and it gets me out of guilt, I would add in my mind.
I smiled bitterly. He really didn’t understand. Maybe he never did. To him, I was an extension of himself, an opportunity to feel good about himself, not a person with real emotions. He didn’t see that that guitar from mom meant more than anything. That she stood by me, didn’t run off to the lake. That she was there when I cried.
— Thank you for… the gift, I finally said, putting the rod down.
He gave me a light pat on the shoulder.
— See? I knew you’d like it! Let’s go out so I can show you how to set it up!
I stood up. Not to go out with him. But to leave.
— No, Dad. I’m not going.
— What? Why?
I finally looked at him.
— Because it’s not about me. It never was. You were absent when I needed you. You forgot my day. You gave me a rod so you could fish. It’s all about you. It always has been.
He frowned, astonished.
— That’s nonsense…
— No, it’s the truth. Mom was there. She cried with me, laughed with me, listened to me when I dreamed, when I fell. You were fishing. And you know what? It’s okay. I can’t change you. But I can choose not to let you hurt me anymore.
I walked out of the house with determined steps. I didn’t cry. Not then. I got home, hugged my mom, and played the guitar she had gotten me. Every note was a healing.
Dad didn’t call me for a while. Then, shyly, he sent me a picture of him holding a fish. Maybe one day he will understand. Or maybe he won’t.
But me? I found myself. And I realized that true love doesn’t seek validation. It is seen, felt, and above all… it is not forgotten.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
