The father was pained by the villagers’ ignorance, but was left with very few options. So, one day he
neatly packed all the money he had brought from America into a worn-out leather
bag, took his youngest son with him, got on a bus and traveled for several
hours through the mountains until they finally reached a city where a place
called bank was located.
The city was absolutely magical to the boy's eyes - glistening white, with beautiful buildings and
breathtaking sparkly azure that splashed along it’s edges.
The people who worked in the bank seemed to understand the
value of the money the father brought and appeared to be really happy to
exchange it for their paper money. The money the father received in exchange
for one leather bagful filled up several burlap bags. The boy couldn't
believe his eyes – he has never seen so much money in one place, and it all
belonged to his father. The ride back
home felt like but a moment, such was the happiness of the boy.
Sitting next to his dad on the lumpy bus seat, the boy
suddenly realized, his impossible dreams – the two-room house AND the car - were
now quite within his reach. And it made the boy overjoyed, more joy than he ever
imagined possible, for he finally felt safe, and secure and well-provided for… He had his father back.
The father, however, didn’t seem to share the boy’s
happiness. Most of the ride back he spent clutching the bags that were stacked
around his feet, looking out of the dirty bus window. When the bus finally
stopped at the village inn, he said,
We must hurry. The storm is approaching.
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