Conversation With My Higher Self (The mother – daughter wound)


I just read this great article about the mother-daughter wound.

I am delighted that women have become more self-aware and are sharing about this deep wound.

It suggested that feeling not good enough comes from women being raised in a patriarchal culture.

Very true! One can observe this dynamic all over the planet.

I see men having the exact feeling also.

Mothers raise their children and unconsciously transfer their belief system and dysfunctional coping skills.

My relationship with my mother is perhaps the most challenging relationship in my life.

What makes it so challenging for you?

I am aware that she has had severe traumas in her childhood. She lost her father in a patriarchal culture as an infant. To this day, I do not know how our grandmother, a young woman in her 30’s raised 5 children by herself, financially, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

You are aware of the impact of the major loss on your mother.

Her oldest brother, who was only 11-12 years old then, became the man of the house at that tender age.

The children did not get to be children and had to grow up quickly as is the case in many parts of the world. Children start working at a young age.

My mother shared that her mother was frequently out of the home and she was left with servants. She remembers many of her childhood traumas.

It is a blessing that she remembers.  It gives her a chance for healing.

That is the frustrating part for me – that she seems to choose to stay in the “victim role”, unwilling to get out of the dysfunctional patterns.

Humans seem to do the BEST they can at any given time, given their inner/outer resources. If they could do better, they would.

I agree. I had this saying on my board in my office at work to help me be aware as I worked with my clients.

What makes it difficult to have the same compassion and tenderness with your mother?

That is an interesting question. There are many dimensions. Perhaps unconsciously I long for love and nurturing from my mother. In my conscious mind, I am aware that she does not have it to give it, yet the longing persists.

It is only human to expect your mother to be loving and caring. It is a heavy expectation on mothers.

True, I have wondered many times whether she would have had any children if she had the choice.

Well, she was a child bride without any understanding of the husband–wife relationship or any preparation for motherhood.

Yes, I feel deep compassion for the child in her. She was an innocent, sensitive, inexperienced child and was re-traumatized by her husband who wanted to train her according to his will.

You are aware that she went from the hand of a tyrant brother to the hand of an army officer. She was perhaps the target of her family’s frustration as the youngest child.

Yes, the older brothers frequently intimidated and scared her from the dark and all kinds of monsters. She is now in her late 80’s and still terrified of the dark and is not able to be alone even during the day.

Like many advanced souls, she has chosen many advanced lessons in this lifetime.

Her behaviors are more like a woman in rage, unhappy about everything in life, dramatic, demanding, blaming, fearful and anxious. She is the most co-dependent woman I have ever met in my life.

You are aware of the symptoms of childhood trauma?


It seems you are frustrated with her. What do you need to release?

I need to release my attachment to her wounds. Release her with love and trust that she has chosen her life lessons.

What is the barrier?

She is extremely fearful and expects me to meet her physical, emotional, psychological and spiritual needs the way she expects.

What is the barrier for you to honor, trust and let her be?

I believe my feeling of guilt and her acting desperately.

She wants what she wants like a young child. It does not mean that you are to meet her every wants and desires.

Where and when I do not respond, she turns the volume of her demands much higher, pushing the guilt button of her longing for leaving the planet and self harm thoughts.

That is painful for any child at any age.

I have witnessed her being under psychiatric treatment since I was seven years old. I have a clear memory. It was heart wrenching. I felt powerless, wanted to make her happy and rescue her.

You bought into her feeling of powerlessness and helplessness.

All my life, I longed to feel empowered and make some sense of my inner emptiness.

You have come a long way. Perhaps there is a long way to go. The healing process is a journey, a process, a life-long process. You seem like you could enjoy a break.

Yes thank you. I need to nurture my soul. I release my mother with love and embrace my daughter with love.


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“The brave prince was lost in the woods with his horse. It was getting dark and he did not know how to find his way out.”

The grandfather was reading a story for his three years old granddaughter.

“Then the prince met this beautiful three year old girl in the jungle. Guess who the little girl was?”

The girl was giggling, laughing, and enjoying the story said “It was ME grandpa.”

“Yes, of course it was you! And what did you say to the prince?” Grandfather asked with much joy and enthusiasm.

“I said do not be afraid prince. I will show you the way home.”

The little girl had become part of the story. What a priceless gift for a child! Nurturing her imagination.

I was listening to my friend sharing the story from Hong Kong, after a visit with his granddaughter who is now 6 years old and in the first grade.

“Grandpa, please share the story of your horse again!”

“What horse sweet heart? Do you mean the story of the prince and the horse that I shared with you three years ago?”

“No grandpa, the story of your own horse when you fell off the horse. I want to hear it again please.”

“Do you remember that story?” The grandfather was in awe about the memory of this little girl and the impact the story had on her. He thought to himself how could she remember? She was only three years old!

The grandfather shared:

“Well, when I was 10 years old, I had lost my best friend, a fawn, and I felt very sad, missing my Ahoo. So my father bought me a horse! I was so excited to have a horse of my own, I couldn’t wait to ride him. We became best friends quickly. When I was riding that horse I felt like the luckiest boy ever. We would roam through the meadows. I felt the wind in my hair, chest, and body. It was not like I was just riding a horse; it was like we were best friends. I loved that horse!”

One day, when I was riding him, I had the urge to make him go faster and faster. Suddenly, we came across a stream that my horse could have jumped over easily. He had jumped over much wider creeks before. For some reason, he suddenly stopped! I was not prepared for that and I flew off into the air and landed on my back in the mud on the ground. For a few seconds I could not breath at all! It seemed that the air got stuck in my lungs. I don’t remember if I lost consciousness or not. All I remember is when I was able to breathe again, my body was in pain. I couldn’t remember what had happened. I saw my horse standing over me, protecting me, neighing out loud with all his might trying to get someone’s attention to come and help me. I could feel his love for me and I smiled. I think his love gave me the energy to be able to get up. Love is a powerful energy. I got up and somehow got back on the horse and he slowly and gently took me home.

When I got home, my mother screamed with fear when she saw my muddied clothes, worried that I may have broken bones or had a concussion.

“Grandpa, you are a good story teller. I wish I could be near you and you could tell me one story every night. Did you tell these stories for my mommy too?”

The loving grandfather was filled with joy that his daughter and her family had taken the time to come and spend their vacation with him. His wife was born and raised in Hong Kong. They both spent their sabbatical in Hong Kong being of service to their community. When he lost her to breast cancer, he decided to continue her path. He moved to Hong Kong. When we visited him three years ago and met his staff, I felt this loving, caring, and compassionate man is bringing a world of warmth from his homeland to those around him.

When I will be blessed with grandchildren someday, I know how to create heartwarming stories and take them through a journey of imagination with castles, rainbows, and fantasy creatures.

Happy birthday Avalynn

The Brave Heart


He was awakened by a phone call from the hospital at 1:30 AM in the morning asking him to come and pick up his father. The 65 years of pain, hurt, anger, and resentment toward his father had been triggered.  He got up, got dressed, jumped in his car and drove to the hospital. The memories of his childhood going through his mind.

It seemed as though the child within him was watching the movie of his life. The painful memories reemerging. He was the only son of five children. He never really understood why his father was so cruel to him. Was the father trying to make a “man” out of him? Was he trying to teach him to be tough so he could face life’s challenges? Did he treat his son the way he was treated? He may never know the answers to these endless questions.

The father had a unique way of getting under his skin. He was just a young boy when the father hired and ordered a woman who did threading for women to come to their home. At the time, threading was a common practice, although painful, for women to get rid of unwanted body and facial hair. This time the woman had come for a highly unusual and specific purpose. The father said he suspected his son had some kind of scalp infection. No one else in the family observed any sign or symptom. The father ordered the woman to thread and pull out all the hair from his son’s scalp!! No one had heard anything like that! The woman used threading to remove facial hair, eyebrows and legs, but never from the top of the head!! The woman protested knowing how painful it would be for the child. The father, getting angry at how she dared to express her concern, threatened to give the job to someone else. The woman needed the money to feed her family.

She looked into the beautiful brown eyes of the young boy as she was asking for his forgiveness with her eyes. She knew it would be torture for him! She gently examined the boy’s head for any sign of skin disease and found none. She started begging to the father, stating that she did not see anything, inviting him to come close and check for himself. This time the father got angry and ordered her to leave his home! The woman got her thread out and for the first time started pulling the healthy and thick hair out.

The boy was screaming from the top of his lungs with pain! He was confused! He had never experienced such pain in his life! There was no infection and he asked himself why is my father doing this to me? Does he hate me? The feeling of hopelessness was immense! The pain was unbearable. The boy had no idea why he was subjected to such a brutal treatment. He felt there was nothing he could do! Totally powerless. No one came to protect him.

It is difficult to imagine the impact of such a trauma on an innocent child. It seems that the emotional pain was even deeper and deadlier than the physical pain.

With every stroke of the thread and removal of hair, blood was coming out from his scalp. One may imagine the impact on the mother and sisters witnessing this cruelty and being afraid to intervene. The cry and scream of the young boy filled the air. There was no help. The father was the absolute authority and his order was being executed even though no one really understood what was going on in his mind. The torture went on for hours! The pain was heart wrenching and the air was filled with fear and terror!

As he was driving to the hospital, a volcano of hurt emotions and repressed anger was emerging. His father at times had international visitors related to his job. Another memory emerged – one day his father and a high British official were going to visit a site in the mountain. The boy wanted so much to go with them. He was asking with his eyes from the father and was too fearful to speak up. The father had no intention of taking him. The British man noticed the longing of the child and suggested to take him along. The father could not say no to the official and reluctantly accepted. The boy, filled with so much joy, thanked his father and jumped in the car with his little heart beating with excitement.

They were going up the mountains through a narrow winding road. The boy was nauseated. He asked his father to stop the car and informed him that he was car sick. The father ignored his son completely. The boy knew he was going to throw up and knew well if that were to happen he would be punished severely. He did everything he could, begging his father to stop the car.

He could no longer hold it and violently threw up. The British gentleman, unaware of the child’s attempts, was highly concerned about the child’s well being. They stopped the car and took him out for fresh air. He asked the boy, “Why didn’t you tell us you were not feeling well?” The innocent child knew better than to be truthful. When they returned home, the child was sick. As soon as they entered, the father slapped him as hard as he could for embarrassing him in front of his guest. It was the end of the boy’s innocence and hope for any kind of justice.

The volcano inside him kept erupting! He thought to himself that the pain he suffered growing up was nothing compared to witnessing the father being abusive to the boy’s mother. He remembered her begging for mercy from her husband. The inner pain was much deeper than being hit by the father. He felt his mother’s pain and wanted to protect her. Something inside him was killing him. He must defend his mother’s honor!

He parked in front of the hospital and went inside. The last thought was about that day’s incident. The father was like a king with only one subject, his wife. She was always the target of all his frustration and anger. It happened frequently that he treated his wife as an insignificant peasant. The children tried many times to save the mother. She was a caged bird who knew nothing about flying. She took all the abuse as expected by her cultural norms.

On that day, he repeated the cycle of violence. Then perhaps, at age of 90, with fear of being questioned by his adult children or grandchildren, he called 9-1-1 and was taken to the hospital. One of the daughters took the mom to her home.

He walked into the hospital and was greeted by a nurse. He was told that his father was in good health with no sign of heart problem or stroke. The tests at the ER showed that all was fine. The nurse said he may follow up with his primary physician for any concern that he may have. Did he do this to get attention from his children, acting innocent?

He took a deep breath and made a decision to be civil with his father. It was tough meeting him at those early hours in the morning knowing he had done it again. His emotions were raw and triggered. All the years of abuse, cruelty, and insanity were erupting inside the volcano of his heart.

“I think I was disturbing you in the middle of the night,” his father said.

“Yes, yes, you were! Do you have the key to your home?”

“Yes, we have hidden an extra key outside the door in case of emergency.”

“Let’s go.”

They got into the car. His heart was beating hard. He could feel his pulse. “Take a deep breath,” he thought to himself, trying to bring peace into his troubled mind.

“Dad, what happened?” He asked.

“Your mom made me angry….”

He could no longer take it! Enough was enough! Something shifted inside him. Even though he was behind the wheel and mindful of the risks of being angry and out of control, for the first time he confronted the father and spoke from his heart! He let him have it. All the unspoken words, the repressed anger of over six decades came out like a volcano erupting.

The father was shocked! He thought he was still the king of the castle expecting obedience. Yet, nothing was able to stop the active volcano this time! The father opened the door while the car was in motion trying to get out. The courageous son grabbed him by the neck like a kitten and pressed hard!

“I am getting off. I do not want to be in your car!” The father screamed.

“No problem! I do not want to be near you either. But you wait until I stop!” The empowered son had come alive. The lion within him was well and powerfully roaring, claiming his dignity and integrity.

He stopped the car. The father got out and started walking in the dark of the night. The brave son was feeling a sense of relief and freedom inside for the first time. The eagle within was flying high and it felt good. It took him a few minutes to come back to himself. He pondered to himself: What just happened?” He had claimed his own identity.

He thought to himself for a minute or two, called the police and explained the situation and asked for assistance. Within a few minutes, two officers arrived and, after an assessment of the circumstances, offered to take the father home.

When the son went home, he was greeted by his wife, children, and grandchildren like a hero coming home from a fierce battle with a powerful enemy. The “brave heart” was celebrating his rebirth with all his loved ones. The joy and pride in the eyes of his family and the sparkle of their smile was energizing. The chains had been broken.


—– In Farsi Translated by Fred Alavi —–

دلاور ساعت یک و نیم بامداد با صدای زنگ تلفن از خواب پرید. با خستگی و نگران گوشی را برداشت. میدانست تلفن های آنموقع شب، برای احوالپرسی نیست، یا طرف شماره را اشتباهی گرفته، یا خبر بدی است. از آن سوی خط خانمی بود که پس از معرفی خود گفت از بیمارستان تماس میگیرد و اضافه کرد  حال پدر او که با مشکل قلبی مراجعه کرده خوب است و مرخص شده و لازم است او به بیمارستان رفته پدر را به منزل ببرد.

آنشب پیش از اینکه به تختخواب برود، خواهرش به او تلفن کرده و گفته بود که پدرشان باز هم بعد از دعوای مفصلی با مادرشان، برای جلب ترحم با تظاهر به بیماری به 911 زنگ زده و با آمبولانس به بیمارستان رفته. خواهرش همچنین گفت که چون نمیخواسته مادرشان را در خانه تنها بگذارد او را به خانه خود برده است. ماجرای رفتن پدر به اورژانس بیمارستان چیز تازه ای نبود و او هر وقت به بهانه های مختلف بر سر مادرشان داد و هوار میکرد و قشقرقی براه میانداخت، به بیمارستان میرفت تا رفتار ناشایست خود را لوث کند.

دلاور با کسالت و بیزاری از تختخواب بیرون آمد و در حالیکه لباس میپوشید خاطرات شصت و پنج سال آزردگی، خشم و دردی را که پدرش بر او تحمیل کرده بود بیاد آورد. هرگز نتوانسته بود بفهمد که بدرفتاری پدرشان با همسر، فرزندان و نزدیکانش و بخصوص او از کجا سرچشمه میگیرد و برای چیست. گوئی آن مرد کینه و نفرتی کهنه در دل دارد و هر بار به بهانه ای آن خشم و آتش سوزنده اش را متوجه یکی از نزدیکان میکند، بدون اینکه دلیل خاصی داشته باشد. بنظر میرسید وقتی آتش غضب در جانش شعله ور میشود، باید برای رهائی از آن ضربه ای یا نیشی بر سوژه و شخصی که انتخاب کرده وارد کند تا آرام بگیرد و راحت شود.

دلاور لباس پوشید و شیشه آبی از یخچال برداشت و در اتوموبیل نشست و به سوی بیمارستان راه افتاد. همچنان که از خانه دور میشد، کودک درونش گوئی زندگی اش را مانند فیلمی بر پرده سینما تماشا میکرد و خاطرات دردناکش از کودکی تا آنروز که پدربزرگ شده و صاحب چند نوه شده بود را بازبینی میکرد.

او تنها پسر خانواده بود و چهار خواهر داشت و دلیل رفتار دور از منطق و انصاف پدرش با خود را هرگز درک نمیکرد. کتک زدن های بیمورد و بی دلیل در برابر دیگران، توهین و تحقیر های بیجا و ظالمانه در کودکی و بعد در بزرگسالی که دیگر کتک زدن نبود، ولی تهمت ها و برچسب زدن های همیشگی همچنان ادامه داشت. بنظر میرسید که هر گاه دلاور موفقیتی بدست میآورد پدرش ناراحت میشود و هرگاه مشکلی برایش پیش میآید خوشحالی میکند.

دلاور بیاد آورد که وقتی دوازده سال داشت روزی پدرش بی مقدمه شروع به وارسی موهای پرپشت او کرد و کمی بعد گفت او دچار کچلی شده. کچلی نوعی بیماری  پوستی است که در اثر عدم رعایت بهداشت در ناحیه سر رشد میکند و باعث ریزش مو میشود. پدرش او را به پزشک میبرد که پس از معاینه بالینی میگوید پوست سالم است و علائمی از بیماری کچلی دیده نمیشود ولی پدر همچنان اصرار میکند و پزشک به ناچار سفارش آزمایش و نمونه برداری و کشت میدهد. نتیجه آزمایشات هم نشان از سلامت پوست سر و موها دارد، اما پدر همچنان پافشاری میکند و آنگاه یک شکنجه غیرعادی برای پسرش تدارک میبیند. او از طریق کلفت خانه زنی روستائی که آرایشگر و پیرایشگر ماهری در بند انداختن صورت خانم هاست به منزل میخواند که سر پسر را بند بیاندازد. در آن زمان بند انداختن برای برداشتن موهای زائد صورت از راه های زیبا سازی خانمها بود و زنهائی بودند که اینکار را انجام میدادند. وقتی آن زن روستائی به منزل میاید پدر به او میگوید که دلاور مشکوک به کچلی است و از او میخواهد که سر او را بند بیاندازد. خانم روستائی میگوید که در همه سالهائی که به این حرفه مشغول بوده چنین کاری را نه شنیده و نه دیده و انجام داده است و اضافه میکند که بند اندازی صورت و ابرو و پاهای خانمها با وجودیکه موهای آنان نرم و بیشتر شبیه کرک های نازکی هستند کاری دردناک است و بدیهی است موهای سر نوجوانی در آن سن بسیار محکم و ریشه های عمیق دارد و کندن آنها بسیار دردناک و غیر قابل تحمل است. پدر بی حوصله و خشمگین از این اظهار نظر با صدای بلند به زن میگوید که اگر او نمیتواند آن کار  را انجام دهد دیگری را اجیر خواهد کرد. زن بیچاره هم که به آن درآمد نیاز داشته به ناچار میپذیرد. او ابتدا با دقت سر و موهای پسرک را وارسی کرده و هیچ اثری از بیماری مشاهده نمیکند و دوباره از پدر میخواهد از اینکار صرف نظر کند و ضمن توضیح اینکه سر سالم است به درد طاقت فرسائی که آن کار دارد اشاره میکند و درخواست میکند که پدرنزدیک آمده  و خود سر سالم و موهای پرپشت پسرش را تماشا کند. پدر که تصمیم خود را گرفته زحمت نزدیک شدن را بخود نمیدهد و به خانم روستائی دستور میدهد که یا به کار بند انداختن مشغول شود یا آنجا را ترک کند. زن بینوا هم برای اولین بار به کاری میپردازد که تا بحال نکرده، یعنی کندن موهای سالم و ضخیم نوجوانی بیگناه.

وقتی نخ در دستان ماهر زن روستائی به حرکت میاید و چند تائی از موها را از ریشه به در میاورد، فریاد دلاور به آسمان بلند میشود و با دست های کوچکش دست های ترک خورده زن را میگیرد و مانع ادامه کارش میشود. پدر که چون دژخیمی بر کار زن نظارت دارد بر پسرش نهیب زده با فریادی امر به سکوت میدهد و باحرکت دست زن را به ادامه کار  وامیدارد.

زن این بار با تاثر به چشمان بیگناه پسر نگاه میکند و با بیزبانی از او درخواست بخشش میکند، پسرک هم با چشمانی اشکبار و دلی پر درد با نگاهی غم زده به او اجازه میدهد و گوئی به او میگوید که دیگر دست های او را نخواهد گرفت و مانع کارش نخواهد شد.

دست های کارکشته زن به کار میافتد، درد خارج از تحمل انسان است. پسرک فریادش بلند میشود ولی با نهیب پدر ساکت میشود. نخ ها که برای بند انداختن کرک های صورت بودند، تاب کندن موهای سالم و محکم پسر را نمیآورند و بارها پاره میشوند.

پسرک هرگز چنان دردی را تجربه نکرده است و در آن حال از خود میپرسد که چرا پدرش با او اینگونه رفتار میکند؟ چرا از من نفرت دارد؟ احساس بی پناهی و بی کسی درد را چند برابر میکند. طفلک نمیتواند بفهمد این رفتار وحشیانه و غیر انسانی برای چیست؟ حس ناتوانی و اینکه قادر به انجام کاری نیست قلب کوچکش را فشار میدهد. ناتوانی محض و اینکه فریادرسی نیست او را وامیدارد که تن به قضا دهد.

گوش اگر گوش تو و ناله اگر ناله ما است                           آنچه البته بجائی نرسد فریاد است

ضربه روحی و آسیبی که به جسم و جان آن کودک بیگناه وارد میشود قابل تصور نیست، شاید تحمل درد و رنج احساسی آن عمل شوم سخت تر از درد جسمی آن بود، کسی چه میداند.

با هر حرکت نخ و دستان زن، وقتی چند تائی از موها کنده میشد، خون از سر پسرک بیرون میزد. کسی نمیداند این کار بیهوده و غیر انسانی چه تائثیراتی بر مادر و خواهران دلاور که شاهدان آن صحنه رقت بار بودند و خود او بر جای گذاشته است، شاهدانی که از ترس پدر جرات مداخله در ماجرا را نداشته اند.

ناله ها و فریاد های خاموش نوجوان در فضای غمزده خانه پراکنده و محو میشود و مادر دلشکسته و ناامید در سکوت به تماشا مینشیند و همراه دردانه اش اشک میریزد. پدر در خانه فرمانروای مطلق بود و دستوراتش میباید بدون چون و چرا اجرا میشد، بدون اینکه کسی بداند در ذهن بیمارش چه میگذرد. چگونه انسانی میتواند جگرگوشه اش را به این صورت شکنجه کند؟

کندن موها بیش از یکساعت و نیم به درازا میکشد، در این فاصله پدر هر از چند دقیقه برای بازدید و سرکشی میاید و بدون گفتگو به تماشا میایستد. درد وحشتناک گوئی قلب پسرک را خراش میدهد، هوای خانه پر از ترس و پلشتی بود و کسی چیزی نمیگفت، فقط گاهی آهی و ناله ای از دهان زن بند انداز و دلاور سکوت غمناک منزل را محزون تر میکرد.

کار بالاخره به آخر رسید. پدر  آمد و با بی تفاوتی  سر خونین پسر را معاینه کرد و به آن دست مالید. تماس دست پدر با پوست مجروح، ناله پسر را درآورد. ظاهراً در گوشه و کناره های سر، آنجائیکه به پشت سر و صورت و پیشانی وصل میشود چند تائی مو باقی مانده بود. پدر فرمان کندن آنها را هم صادر میکند. در آن مدت پسرک دریافته بود که کندن موهائی که در آن نواحی هستند دردناک تر از موهای میانی است. زن روستائی در سکوت باقی مانده موها را هم از پوست جدا  و به پدر که ناظر و منتظر بود پایان کار را اعلام میکند. پدر پولی از جیب درآورده و به سوی او دراز میکند. زن مزدش را بی نگاهی به مرد و بدون تشکر از او میگیرد و به سوی دلاور رفته او را در آغوش میگیرد و پیشانی اش را میبوسد و بی خداحافظی خانه را ترک میکند. او دوبار دیگر هربار به فاصله سه هفته به خانه میاید و آن شکنجه دو بار دیگر بهمان شکل تکرار میشود.

همانطور که دلاور بسوی بیمارستان میراند، آتشفشانی از احساسات دردناک و خشم فروخورده در درون او خود را نشان میداد. بیاد دیگر خاطرات تلخ کودکی اش میافتد، بیاد آورد از وقتی سه ساله بود، پدرش به سختی و بدون دلیل منطقی او را کتک میزد و این عمل زشت نه تنها در خلوت که در حضور دیگران هم انجام میشده است.

رنج و شرمی که او در سالهائی که بزرگ میشد و با هر بار کتک خوردن تجربه میکرد دلش را به درد میاورد، اما آن همه ، در برابر بدرفتاری پدرش با مادر ناچیز مینمود. او درد مادر و توهین هائی را که از مردش میدید و تحمل میکرد با تاثر نظاره کرده بود و هر بار سنگی به دل کوفته و به خود گفته بود که هرچه باشد پدر است و احترامش واجب، ولی همیشه میخواست از مادرش در برابر خشونت های پدر حمایت کند. بخصوص که آنها سالها است در خانه تنهایند و پدر که مثل پادشاهان رفتار میکند، حالا تنها یک خادم دارد، یعنی همسرش و آن زن سالخورده و بی دفاع هدف همه خشم و نفرت و زورگوئی های اوست و طفلک همانند پرنده اسیری است که سالها است پرواز را از یاد برده است و همانگونه که فرهنگ کهنه و سنت های پوسیده برایش مقرر کرده به همه بدرفتاری شوهر تن در میدهد. آنروز هم گویا همان ماجرای خشونت آمیز تکرار شده و پدر برای گریز از سوالات فرزندان یا نوه ها بعد از داد و هوار بر سر مادر و احیاناً شکستن ظرف و شیشه ای به 911 زنگ زده و با تظاهر به بیماری به بیمارستان رفته است.

دلاور به بیمارستان میرسد و به بخشی که پدرش در آن بود میرود. پرستار مسئول به او میگوید که پدر هیچ مشکل سلامتی ندارد و علائمی از عارضه قلبی و غیره نداشته و میتواند به خانه برود. همانطور که حدس زده میشد او برای جلب توجه و ترحم و با تظاهر به بیماری به بیمارستان رفته بود.

مرد نفس غمیقی میکشد و بخود میگوید که باید با خونسردی و عاقلانه رفتار کند، گرچه برایش آسان نبود که در آن نیمه شب مردی را که عمری شکنجه و آزارش داده ببیند که بازبا شیوه و شگرد همیشگی همه را بازی میدهد و برنده از میدان در میاید. با حالتی سرد بدنبال پرستار وارد اطاق میشود. یادآوری ده ها سال بدرفتاری، بی انصافی و ظلم پدر آتش به جانش میزد. پدرش از صندلی برمیخیزد و با حاتی موذیانه میگوید، فکر میکنم در این موقع شب حسابی مزاحم شدم. مرد پاسخ میدهد بله همینطور است و میپرسد، کلید خانه را دارید؟ بله در گوشه ای از حیاط کلیدی اضافه پنهان کرده ام.

دلاور بدون توجه به پدر، از پرستار تشکر میکند و براه میافتاد و به اتومبیل سوار میشود،  پدر هم به دنبالش.

قلب دلاوربه شدت میزند، بطوریکه ضربان آنرا احساس میکند. نفس عمیقی میکشد و سعی میکند ذهن بیقرارش را آرام کند. وقتی براه افتادند، میپرسد خوب چه اتفاقی افتاد؟ پدربا لحنی حق به جانب میگوید مادرت مرا عصبانی کرد.

دلاور دیگر نتوانست تحمل کند، نه دیگر بس است. چیزی در درون او متحول میشود. با وجودیکه پشت فراوان بود و خطرات رانندگی در حال خشم را بخوبی میدانست، برای اولین بار در زندگی میخواست پدر را به چالش بکشد و ناگفته هائی را که در دل داشت بر زبان جاری کند و آنچه سزاوار است فریاد زند. ناگفته ها و خشمی را که شصت و چند سال در دل خفه کرده بود بصورت آتشفشانی از واژه ها از حلقومش فوران میکند.

در آن نیمه شب مرد با نعره هائی که از بغضی کهنه و زخمهای چرکین روانی سرباز کرده بود فریاد دادخواهی بر میآورد و از زشتی های پدر و ظلم و شقاوتی که او بر همه خانواده روا داشته میگوید و اعتراض میکند . پدر که هنوز خود را پادشاه قلعه و دیگران را فرمان بردار میداند ابتدا با ناباوری هاج و واج نعره های پسر را میشنود که تازه گرم شده و  آنچه لایق پیرمرد بود را نثارش میکند.

دیری نمی پاید که پیرمرد از  شوک بیرون میاید و میبیند که جای ماندن نیست و درحالیکه اتوموبیل همچنان در حرکت بود در را باز میکند و سعی میکند خارج شود. دلاور  برای جلوگیری از خطر پریدن او به بیرون گردن او را بسختی میگیرد و از سرعت اتوموبیل میکاهد. پدر فریاد میزند نگهدار نمیخواهم در اتوموبیل تو باشم. پسر هم فریاد میزند منهم نمیخواهم نزدیک تو باشم، فقط صبر کن تا توقف کنم. پسر توانائی خود را بدست آورده و پدر را از تخت پادشاهی به زیر کشیده بود. نیروی درونی او همچون شیری ژیان غرش کنان شان و مقام و تمامیت خود را بدست آورده بود و در مقابل خود بزدلی کوچک را میدید که عمری بدروغ تظاهر به بزرگی کرده بود.

اتوموبیل از حرکت باز میایستد، پدر پیاده میشود و در تاریکی شب در خیابان براه میافتد. دلاور برای نخستین بار در زندگی یک احساس آزادگی و رهائی  را تجربه میکند. شهباز بلند پرواز درون، شهبال هایش را میگشاید و به سوی بلندای آسمان به پرواز در میآید. چه احساس خوبی، آزاد و رها. دقایقی بدرازا میکشد تا دلاورخود را باز یابد. با خود میاندیشد، این چه بود؟ و چه اتفاقی افتاد؟ جواب این بود، او هویت خود را یافته و بدست آورده بود، این بود آنچه شده بود. چه لحظه پاک و زیبائی، زلال و روان به نرمی رود کارون و زاینده رود.

دمی درنگ میکند، تلفن را برمیدارد و به پلیس زنگ میزند و ماجرا را میگوید و درخواست کمک میکند. چند دقیقه بعد افسری میرسد و پس از ارزیابی و گفتگو با هر دو میگوید که پدر را به خانه خواهد رساند. پسر پشت فرمان مینشیند و از شیشه آبی که همراه دارد جرعه ای مینوشد و به آرامی به سوی خانه خود میراند، جائی که همسر و پسرش با نگرانی در انتظارش نشسته اند. آنخها ماجرا را جویا میشوند. مرد با لبخندی سرشار از طعم خوش پیروزی داستان را میگوید. هردو، مرد را همچون سرداری فاتح که پیروز مندانه از نبرد با دشمنی نیرومند به خانه بازگشته در آغوش میکشند و مرد تولد دوباره خود را در کنار همسر و فرزند جشن میگیرد. روز و روزهای بعد وقتی خواهران و دیگر نزدیکانش ماجرا را میشنوند با شادی به او تبریک میگویند. او زنجیرهای اسارت را پاره کرده بود. آزاد و رها.