“Come on dear, I’m sure you’ll love this story!” Dad smiled at Belinda.
As usual, she just shrugged him off.
Dad looked crestfallen and Mum patted him comfortingly on the shoulder.
“Never mind hon, I’m sure she’ll rediscover the magic of reading again soon.”
Belinda had been an avid reader when she was a teenager, but somehow her thirst for books had ceased over time.
Books lined the shelves in Dad’s study and he’d hoped that one day, both father and daughter could sit together and discuss all that they’d read.
A month later, Dad was rushed to hospital. The doctor said that the attack had been so severe, that he was now in a coma.
A tearful Belinda packed a box of books from Dad’s study. She read to him every single day.
The right of your father is that you know that he is your root, Belinda read softly, and suddenly her eyes welled up. How could she have ignored the beautiful and diverse collection of books her father had acquired over the years?
“I’ve always marveled at this writer,” whispered a hoarse voice.
Belinda jumped up and rushed to Dad’s side.
A few weeks later, Dad was back home and Belinda spent every second she could spare, reading with him in his study.
The right of your father is that you know that he is your root
– Treatise on Rights, by Imam Zain ul Abideen