As I used the ram to move the boat forward, we took our time to enjoy the scenery around us.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" I asked her, looking around. Elaria nodded in response.
"Nature is beautiful as always."
"Nature's beauty comes as if she is God's daydream," I added, my author's brain kicking off again. "She comes as an archway of flora, she comes as an outstretched green hand."
"This world is quite astonishing when you claw your way out of the mire of dysfunction," I continued. "When you first peek over the horizon and see nature without the haze of discontent—without any filter, with the naked eye and a mind open to the beauty of this reality—amazement comes next. It is like the amazement of a baby when they first meet a dog or see a leaf move in the wind. And when you see those simple things, when you can fall in love with the smallest things, everything gets so much better. The larger things become almost overwhelming, the sense of love so much stronger. It is then you realize that before, you lived a half-life, greyed and without the warmth each human is born with."
Elaria stayed silent before asking a question I had expected her asking eventually.
"Miles, what was your job in your past life?"
"I was a novice author," I responded without hesitation.
Elaria nodded as if she had expected this answer. "I knew it. No wonder you have your way with words."
I let out a soft chuckle. "I was a mediocre author, just trying to get by." I added with a self-deprecating smile.
Thinking about my past, there was one thing I regretted: my parents. I had disappointed them. I was an unfilial son. I shouldn't have left like I did. My mood plummeted as I remembered the past; I felt bitter inside, I should have done things differently.
Surely, my companion noticed the heavy mood, because the concerned Elaria could not help but inquire, "Don't you miss your old life?"
I stayed silent at this sudden question, staring at the horizon, lost in thought. Elaria didn't rush me for an answer, which I truly appreciated. She was really considerate.
"I only have one regret," I began my story because I felt she was ready to listen.
"I had a dispute with my parents, and I ran away from home to live in another country. That's how I became a novice author, and things only got worse from then on. I wasn't successful; I had trouble meeting deadlines and hit writer's block several times, unable to produce anything good. Because I ran away to the other side of the world, disappointing my parents, and refused to apologize out of stupid pride, our relationship deteriorated to its lowest point. I was disowned. In the end, the stress and failure to make something of my life caused me to sink low, living like a recluse with little contact. The result? I died from overwork. Fortunately, I reincarnated and was given a second chance. I would have loved to apologize to my parents, my sister, and my brother. I don't know if I'll ever have the opportunity to do so in the future."
I poured everything out without hiding anything. My story wasn't a tragic one, just a tale of stubbornness. I thought I was someone special; I thought I could do everything on my own, it must be puberty troubling me now I thought about it.
My father was South African. He met my mother after coming to study in the United States. After spending twenty years there, he found a good job as a doctor in a reputed hospital. My mother worked in a school, rising from teacher to vice principal. We had an above average lifestyle. I was the eldest my full name is Miles Ethan Chase, followed by my sister Channel and then my brother Elias. I was good at school—not a genius, but above average. I used to follow my father to the hospital; I was fascinated by what he did, how he saved many lives. My father was a surgeon, a successful one. Because I was so fascinated, I studied hard to one day be like him, which made him proud. He poured everything he had into helping me follow him in his footsteps. But unfortunately, things took a U-turn. I didn't perform well enough to get into the college he wanted me to get in.
"I remember one day, watching ants flow across the concrete like an oil spill from my Dad's old Chevy; marching as orderly as any army, with one column heading to a food source and another returning. I should have been filled with wonder that these insignificant insects could accomplish this task, but I wasn't. The day was stretching before me like a prairie road into the horizon, and I couldn't be bothered to walk it. But I couldn't fast-forward time either. I wanted instead to go back to the day I told Dad he could stick it—stick his chore list where the sun don't shine. I was expecting fireworks, but all I got was ice. Then my electronics disappeared, my allowance was stopped, and I had to take the bus to school rather than him giving me a lift. Nothing was going to change until I figured out why he was so angry. So, I intended to mess with the ant column; break it with barriers, crush some of them, see if I could make them go in a circle."
Finally, I understood why he behaved the way he did, I was talking about my father. From that day onward, my father was disappointed in me. He would get angry at the smallest issue. My mother tried to mediate but failed several attempts. It became a cold war between us. I was annoyed. I had worked hard to make him proud, to follow him in his footsteps, but I fell short. I thought he should have supported and understood me; maybe that wasn't my vocation. Tired of the constant pressure, I decided to forsake everything and run away. You know the rest.
"After I ran away, I wandered around here and there before finally ending up in my father's hometown. I stayed there, doing my utmost to stay out of my family's reach, but they still found me. My father, as stubborn as me, didn't ask me to come back. Only my mother sent me a letter. Here is what she wrote, let's me tell you:"
[My baby,
It is my honour to be your parent. When you came, my world changed, filled with love for you, my precious child. It is for me to defend you, to care for you, to help you mature into who you were born to be - not a small version of myself, but your own self. It is my God-given duty to protect you from harm, yet it is your right to take your own reins and judge your own risks as soon as you are able. I pray that my care of you leaves you able to be autonomous, to have control of your own life, able to fully love and care for those blessed to share life with you. I hope so. Just know my love for you is eternal, that it will always be in the ether to comfort your heart should you ever have need. You are the eternal light in my heart.
I love you and we miss you dearly!
—Mom]
"I never wrote a reply. Thinking about it now, I should have. I should have talked with my father. Even if I didn't end up like him, I should have spoken with him, with all of them, and together we could have found what I was truly passionate about." I lamented my past mistakes. If I become a parent, I will do better. I will not push my expectations onto my children. I made this silent vow.
After a long moment of silence, Elaria finally spoke. "Indeed, you should have done that. But from what I can tell, you were both in the wrong. You should have discussed it and tried to understand each other. I hope you will have the chance to make up for this in the future. We can learn from our parents' mistakes to become better parents ourselves."
"Thank you. I truly appreciate your words. I'm grateful that I talked this with you." I paused, then lightened the mood with a joke, stay true to my character.
"Hehehe! I'm so happy, So, my dear Elaria, you're already considering our future as parents together? How many children do you want?"
I bet if I could see her eyes right now, she would be rolling them at me.
"Scram! You're twisting my words, Miles!" We both laughed afterward. This little episode brought us closer.