He woke up at 10.00am on Sunday morning and opened the curtains. The brightness outside called out to him. He stretched lazily, letting the sun’s rays bathe him with warmth and promises of abundant good-will that he could count on for the rest of the day.
The fridge in the kitchen, however, said otherwise. Its emptiness created echoes in his belly.
He grabbed the car keys from the hook behind the door and called out to his son, reminding him to switch off the TV, which, as usual, had baby-sat admirably. The little boy knew never to wake his father up on Sundays and always waited patiently for their day together to begin.
They drove the few kilometers to the nearest supermarket and stocked up on food.
Halfway home, a policeman flagged the car down and asked the father for his driver’s license. The man knew very well that it was at home, but he made a show of looking for it in the car’s compartments and even under the seats.
“I’m sorry, officer”, he said, at last. “I thought it was here but I cannot find it.”
“I knew you did not have it. That is why I stopped you.”
The man peered at the policeman and signed resignedly as he recognized him. The officer had stopped him twice before and had let him go with a warning on both occasions. Third time lucky would be too much to expect.
Just then, the little boy spoke up from the back-eat, held up an open packet of sweets and spoke to the policeman saying, “Uncle, would you like a sweet?”
The two men burst out laughing.
The policeman, shaking his head, told the father, “Go, your son has saved you this time, but if I catch you driving without your license again, I won’t let you off”.
Photo by Jack B on Unsplash