I’m not a night owl at all, it was 9 pm that
day and I was still at the airport after 3 hours. I had arrived at the airport
and had been waiting for someone to give me a ride home as I ran out of money
because I had bought something special for my mom and I started to dread the
worst scenario. I had been waiting for my uncle but he never arrived.
Nonetheless, I thank God for that because when I thought that everything was
going to be worse, I ran into a taxi driver from whom I took in a lot after a
pleasant conversation.
That taxi driver I mentioned had been a
landscaper formerly, but now he was driving a taxi as a part of his retirement.
I could see in his face he didn’t like that job that much but it was the way he
could pay his way and support her old wife financially.
The conversation began with a remark about
politics. It seemed that man was good at remembering dates and names and he
surprisingly came up with a remark that really set the tone for that night. He
said he wanted to write. I got surprised at that remark as it was very strange
to hear such thing from a taxi driver and a former landscaper but then he
continued and said: “I would like to write a book on landscaping”.
After those words, I understood what his
passion was. His passion was still landscaping but it appeared he was in the
wrong place behind a steering wheel. Then, I asked him why he didn’t take the
little risk of leaving the steering wheel to go home and start writing but the
old guy answered back to me and said he had failed as a writer several times.
Other than that, he added he had somebody to support financially. I had to
stray onto question why he wasn’t living with his wife but that question never
had a clear answer.
Afterwards, I could realize the passion he felt
towards writing when a tear came out of one of his eyes. It was a very deep
sensation what I felt on looking at that tear running down his face. I wanted
to wipe it, and give him a hug to feel his frustration. I wanted to feel the
way he felt in that moment too. In that moment, I had already forgotten where I
was, I had already forgotten I had to go to my mom’s, I had already forgotten I
had been stood up by my uncle. In those seconds, the only thing that was
running through my head was that horrible sensation of frustration. That
feeling of not having able to succeed in something you have always wanted to
succeed. I saw his face, and could notice his age. He was around 75 years and
he could never be a writer, instead, I could feel deep inside he never did what
he had always wanted to. I could also see that sensation of deep sadness he
noticeably reflected. I finally shook his hand and tapped his right shoulder
and said firmly to him: “You are still alive, so it is never too late to
restart”.
Those words seemingly gave our conversation a
twist and he finally invited me into his car. I got into his car but once I did
it, he told he wasn’t going to take me home yet, instead, he made clear he
wanted to drink some beers with me at a pub to continue the conversation. I
accepted and we drove to the nearest pub then.
On arriving at the pub, he ordered some beers
and the conversation went on. I firstly asked him why he had always wanted to
become a writer and if there were concealed reasons stopping him from doing
that. He said:
“I’m now inside a car. My thoughts have
disappeared. Whenever I grab a pen to write, I can’t write as my mind goes
blank. Any advice?”.
“Yes” – I said.- The only thing you need is
inspiration. “Honestly, if you have the knowledge and the inspiration, the rest
of the work will be done itself.”
“I would like to become an article writer, a
unique article writer about landscaping. But I’m already old and my mind fails
to remember inspiring words for my article. The article I’m writing now. The
one I have in my pocket. That’s why you are here with me”.
Apparently, what that man really needed was a
prod. A prod that could prompt him to continue his article. He was not looking for somebody to guide him
how to write. Instead, he was looking for emotion. He was looking for something
different that could cause a change of heart in him. Something unique and an
original remark that could make him take up what he once began.
I slowly took the piece of paper he gave me.
When I started to read, I didn’t understand his manuscript so much but I could
cop onto the fact that the guy who was standing in front of me at the pub was a
master in what he once used to do. The lexicon in that manuscript combined with
the inspiration that his words suggest was a perfect match. I gave the paper
back to him. I was shocked because I didn’t understand his real reasons to feel
down, to feel frustrated, feel like a cipher.
“What you needed was a prod to cheer you up.
Hold your chin up. You are talented. Stop fishing for compliments. Be yourself.
I didn’t understand your article so much but judging the form it is written, to
me, you are a master. Keep at it.”
The old man stared at my eyes, and keeping mum
for a second, he replied: “When I was a child, my family never backed me when I
insisted on being a writer. Then, after 15 years I got married, I had two
children. At the dinner table, we once were having dinner, I brought up this
point about writing in the conversation with my children, and I didn’t feel the
support from my own family either. I used to go to this very pub to hang out
with my lifelong friends, we used to drink some beers and then go home but when
I came up and said I wanted to be a writer, they scoffed up. I didn’t have
their support either. You have been the only one who has backed me in this
decision and it’s enough. Thanks. I’ll finish my article tonight”.
The man then knocked back the bottle, took his
keys and said: “I knew something was going to turn my life around today. I was
not wrong. I’ll drive you home”.
After all that, I could fathom something.
Sometimes, you think you are not talented enough to do a certain task. When it
comes to writing, even a farmer can leave you dumbfounded. You never know. This
man I came across didn’t know what he owned. Instead, he did himself down. Like
him, I guess there are millions writers wanting to write but they don’t dare do
such thing because they think they are not gifted. Or maybe, they just have
taken too much notice of people’s remarks, and for that, they’ve given up their
dreams. So, don’t give up. It is never late to restart your life article. Life
is like an article which can only be redacted by you. Thus, don’t ever let that
opportunity slip, give it a good end.
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