The Leather Briefcase

When I was younger, I remember what my father told me about a television set that my aunt who's based in America would want to give him.  It is a sad story of watching television shows in a neighbor's house because there was none in the house.  Therefore, news of having one is exciting especially to us kids those times.  I could not forget how I counted the days.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="300"] English: Raoul Wallenbergs briefcase in bronze, placed on the foundation to the summerhouse where he was born in 1912, in Kappsta, Lidingö Svenska: Raoul Wallenbergs portfölj i form av en skulptur i brons placerad på husgrunden till det sommarhus där Raoul föddes 1912 i Kappsta på Lidingö. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)[/caption]

The aunt came one day and summoned my father to come.  When he arrived home, my heartbeat was like thumping against my chest in excitement.  His hand was holding a briefcase, just like one of those leather briefcases for men or for lawyers as I saw it.  I asked about the television set.  I felt the pain registered on my father's face and he tried to cover it with a smile and told us that another relative asked the aunt for the television set.  The relative was well-t0-do, as they were showing it with their extravagance and social climbing.  Of course, my mother was reactive and saying things.  My father just kept mum.  Days after, he was complaining about the relative.  The pain inside caused by my aunt's indifference and the other relative's insensibility was unbearable for him that he was not able to keep them long.

There are a lot more stories about stolen moments, chances, opportunities by people who are supposed to be relatives to my father.  This is just one of them.