—¡Hijo, llévale el pan a la señora Aída!

—Ok papá —contesta mientras piensa en lo avergonzado que se sentirá cuando lo entregue.

Acaba de entrar en la adolescencia, deja la comodidad del bus escolar, el cual disfrutó durante siete largos años. Orgulloso estrena un nuevo uniforme y el horario extendido. Con esto aparece un problema: la distancia entre su hogar y el liceo le imposibilita el almuerzo en familia. Antes era simple, una vez acabada a las 12 del mediodía la jornada estudiantil, abordaba con sus hermanas menores el transporte, en una hora, estaban en casa sentados en la mesa almorzando. Ahora, sin tener que renunciar al magnífico colegio, era imposible. Por fortuna, la madre de un compañero lo saca de apuros cuando le ofrece compartir el almuerzo durante esos días.

—Es el más sabroso pan de la panadería del pueblo —comenta con alegría, añadiendo —espero lo disfruten durante el almuerzo.

Mira a su padre, desea decir que no lo llevará, pero desiste, no quiere arruinar el momento al verlo tan contento. Toma el pan, lo mete en el morral con cuidado de no magullarlo entre los libros y cuadernos. No entiende, se dice a sí mismo: a la señora Aída no le falta nada, ella es adinerada, ¿qué pensará de mí?

Con el pasar de los años, él se hizo la misma pregunta cada vez que vio a su padre dar con alegría un modesto obsequio de agradecimiento.

Un buen día, sin proponérselo, comprendió el secreto de la alegría de su padre cuando daba; al principio le incómodo la simpleza de sus juicios adolescentes, y le lastimó admitir la raíz de los mismos: el tonto y pernicioso ego.

—¿Orgullo de qué? —se dijo con lágrimas en los ojos, agradeció callado a su padre, ausente por designio divino, quien con ejemplos consistentes, al ser bondadoso con el prójimo, sin distingo de condición social, le enseñó el valor del agradecimiento y la forma de manifestarlo, solo que antes era demasiado tonto para aceptar que el pan, por muy simple que parezca, también encierra un gran significado cuando proviene de una actitud sincera..

"Son, take the bread to Mrs. Aida!"

"Okay Dad," he replies as he thinks about how embarrassed he will feel when he hands it over.

Just entering adolescence, he leaves the comfort of the school bus, which he enjoyed for seven long years. Proudly debuts a new uniform and extended hours at the high school. With this a problem appears: the distance between his home and the high school makes it impossible for him to have family lunch. It used to be simple, once the student day was over at noon, he would board the transportation with his younger sisters, in an hour, they were at home sitting at the table having lunch. Now, without having to give up the magnificent high school, it was impossible. Fortunately, a partner's mother baffles him when he offers to share lunch during those days.

"It's the tastiest bread from the town's bakery," he says cheerfully, adding, "I hope you enjoy it over lunch."

He looks at his father, he wishes to say that he will not hand him over, but desist, he does not want to ruin the moment when he is so happy. He takes the bread, puts it in the backpack, taking care not to bruise it between the books and notebooks. He doesn't understand, he says to himself: Mrs. Aída lacks nothing, she is wealthy, what will she think of me?

As the years went by, he asked himself the same question every time he saw his father happily give a modest gift of thanks.

One day, without intending to, he understood the secret of his father's joy when he gave; At first, he was uncomfortable with the simplicity of his teenage judgments, and it hurt him to admit the root of them: the foolish and pernicious ego.

"Proud of what?" With tears in his eyes, he silently thanked his father, absent by divine design, who with consistent examples, being kind to others, without distinction of social condition, taught him the value of gratitude and the way of Manifesting it, only he was too foolish before to accept that bread, simple as it may seem, also carries great meaning when it comes from a sincere attitude.