One day, I climbed up on the stool to reach up to those jar of cookies. I knew she had hidden them there. While I stood and surveyed the tins, I realized she had kept a smaller tin right behind. I opened it to notice a small wad of notes hidden there. They must have been a few hundreds. I kept them back there.
Late at night, my father came home dead drunk. He started to trash my mom asking her for money to drink. She kept on denying it.
Finally I couldn’t bear to see her getting hurt anymore. I climbed on top of the shelf and removed the tin and gave it to him.
I didn’t see him after that day again. Where did he go? I don’t know.
Should I have given him that tin box? I always wonder. If only……
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