10
Author: Aisha Patel
I wrote about silence. My father’s silence, to be exact. How he fixed leaks and fences but never fixed the words between us.
I didn’t think much of the essay until the night I read it to him. He sat there, still as a photograph, listening. When I finished, he said, “You noticed all that?”
He never said “I’m proud of you,” but he didn’t have to. The next morning, I found a note on the counter: “Good luck, kid. You already did it.”
I got into my top school a month later. But what mattered most was that, for once, my dad and I had spoken the same language — even if it was only for a page.