Top 10 Best Essays on Embodying the Character Xi-mong to Retell the Story 'Xi-mong's Father'

The days without my father were filled with pain and despair. At that time, happiness seemed so distant, so far that I felt it was out of my reach. But, fortunately, I met my father, the best father in my entire life.

On my first days in grade school, my excitement quickly turned to disappointment. My classmates surrounded me, teasing me cruelly with the words: 'The illegitimate child with no father.' They surrounded me with mockery and bitter taunts about my lack of a father.

Day after day, their cruel jokes only grew harsher. Once, they even encircled me, pointing and calling me names, which made me so angry I lashed out at them. They used their numbers to bully me, and I was beaten badly. Disheartened, I skipped school and went to the riverbank. There, I idly watched the fish leap for prey, staring at the clouds and grass with an almost obsessive fascination. I thought about jumping into the river, letting the water carry me away, carrying away the painful memories. But then I remembered my mother, and tears began to flow.

In that moment of despair, I met 'Father Philip.' The big, strong blacksmith placed his firm hand on my shoulder and asked me what was wrong. After listening to my story, 'Father' suggested I return home with my mother. As soon as I got home, I ran into my mother’s arms and whispered to her. 'Father' told her what he had seen at the riverbank. My mother’s eyes welled up with tears. I hurried to explain that I didn't want to jump into the river but had gone there to ease my sorrow from the cruel teasing about not having a father.

Then, I thought about how wonderful it would be if Father Philip could be my dad. I nervously asked him to become my father. The atmosphere froze for a moment. Fearing he might say no, I threatened to jump into the river if he refused. Perhaps amused by my boldness, Father Philip agreed.

The next day, I proudly told my friends, but they immediately protested, saying that Father Philip was not my real father, as he wasn’t like their fathers. After school, I went straight to Father’s forge and told him everything. He was quiet for a moment and then said, 'Go home. I promise I will be your real father.' The next surprise came when Father Philip came to our house to propose to my mother. He said that I needed a father and my mother needed a husband, and he was willing to join our little family. I was so happy – I finally had a dad. The very next day, I proudly announced to my classmates that my father was now Father Philip, the blacksmith. If anyone dared mock me again, I’d cut off their ear.

Years later, as I grew older, I never forgot that day or the kindness Father Philip showed to my mother and me. Thank you, Father, I love you so much, Father Philip.

I am Xi-mong, a child with only a mother and no father. My mother has poured all her love into me to make up for the emotional void, but I could never fully ease the sorrow of not having a father. My childhood was filled with haunting memories, especially when I went to school. My classmates would surround me and mock me with words like, 'Hey, hey! The illegitimate child with no father!'

My childhood was full of sadness. After every school day, my classmates would crowd around me, ridiculing me, asking about my father. If I couldn’t answer, they treated me like a joke and even beat me. Every day when the bell rang for class to end, they would pull me aside and demand to know about my father. Often, I wished I could ask the same questions: 'Who is my father?' 'Why doesn’t he show up?' When I asked my mother, she would look at me with a sad expression, always avoiding my questions. They hit me, laughed at me, enjoying my pain. The physical pain was nothing compared to the mental agony. As a child, I wondered, 'What did I do wrong?'

One day, I ran to the riverbank, tears streaming down my face. At that moment, I had no other thoughts but to end my life. I couldn’t bear the shame, the teasing, the humiliation anymore. I cried for a long time. But strangely, the surroundings seemed to comfort me. The sunlight gently warmed the grass, and the water sparkled like a mirror. I felt so exhausted that I lay down on the grass, hoping to sleep forever and never wake up.

Then, I remembered home, remembered my mother. I felt even more sorrowful and cried harder. I knelt down and began to pray as I did before bed. I prayed for my soul to be saved. But the tears were so overwhelming I couldn’t speak the words. My vision blurred.

A hand rested on my shoulder, and a voice spoke: 'What’s troubling you, my child?' I wiped my eyes and looked up to see a middle-aged man with dark hair and a kind expression. I answered him:

'They beat me... because... I... I have no father... no father.'

Meeting this man, I felt as if I could finally unload all the pain and humiliation that had built up inside. The man listened and then said:

'Why do you cry? Everyone has a father.'

I replied:

'I... I have no father.'

My heart ached every time someone asked about my father. The man went silent for a moment, then said:

'Don’t be sad anymore, child. Come home with me, and I’ll give you... a father.'

Though the man and I were strangers, his words gave me an overwhelming sense of trust. It felt as if something miraculous was about to happen, and perhaps I could have the father I always dreamed of. I would no longer feel sorrow or shame, and the teasing would stop. I jumped up, grabbed the man’s rough but warm hand, and he led me home.

At home, my mother appeared, her face pale and stern. My mother was a beautiful woman, strong-willed but betrayed by her trust. That’s why she always avoided mentioning my father. She poured all her love into me, compensating for the absence of a father. The man, whom I later learned was named Philip, gently spoke to her:

'Here, I found this lost child near the riverbank.' I cried, my voice breaking: 'No, Mom, I wanted to drown myself because they beat me... beat me... because I have no father.' My mother cried, and I knew these tears came from her pain. I rushed to Philip like a savior and asked, full of hope:

'Would you be my father?'

Philip went silent. He looked at my mother, and I, a stubborn child, spoke again:

'If you don’t want to, I’ll go jump in the river.'

Philip smiled gently:

'Of course, I want to be your father.'

At that moment, I felt like I had been reborn. The shame and pain vanished, replaced by the joy of happiness and fulfillment. I said: 'So it’s settled! Philip, you are my father.'

The next day at school, I proudly shared the news with my classmates, telling them, 'My dad? His name is Philip.' Even if they beat me, I no longer feared, because in my heart, I had a father—Philip. I had a father, and I deserved a happy family just like any other child.

Philip moved in with my mother and me. I could see my mother was happy, even though she didn’t say it out loud. I silently thanked Philip, for he was the light that brightened the dark life my mother and I had. He was the light that gave us hope for a happy family. I believe that everyone in this world deserves to live and pursue happiness.

My childhood was filled with sorrow. The reason for my sadness was the absence of a father. Though my mother loved me deeply, I still felt the lack of a father's affection. I often envied the other children who had their fathers walking with them to school, playing and laughing together. The thing that scared me the most was the teasing from the other kids in the neighborhood and at school.

Even though my mother told me to ignore them, I had gotten into several fights with them. And every time, I ended up getting beaten. After each fight, I would return home, frustrated, and tell my mother everything. She would comfort me, hold me in her arms, but we both ended up crying together. One day, after being mocked again for not having a father, I couldn’t hold my anger and charged at the kids. I ended up getting beaten again, and feeling humiliated, I ran to the riverbank and cried uncontrollably. The weather was warm and peaceful, and the sunlight gently warmed the grass. The water shimmered like a mirror. I wanted to lie down and sleep, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t forget their cruel words, and I felt dizzy, my body tired and weak. I wished I could just sink into the river and forget everything. But something held me back. My eyes followed the bubbles drifting lazily on the water.

Overcome with sadness, I lay back on the grass, staring at the sky. The vast, endless blue stretched above me, and clouds in all shapes floated by. Suddenly, I saw three clouds closely together, looking like a father holding his child’s hand. I cried out, 'Father! Where are you? Why don’t you come back to me?' There was no answer, only the sound of the wind rustling through the reeds along the river. I pressed my face into the damp grass, slowly calming down, and then I thought of my mother. My dear, beloved mother! If I didn’t return home on time, she would be worried sick! If I died, she would cry all her tears and might even die with me. The thought of this made me scold myself for being weak and cowardly. No! I had no reason to die! I needed to go to school, grow up, and work to take care of my mother! She had raised me with such love and care. She was everything I had in this life.

Suddenly, a strong hand rested on my shoulder, and a deep voice said, 'What’s bothering you, child?' I looked up to see Mr. Philip, the blacksmith from the village. He had curly hair, a thick beard, and squinting eyes, with a broad, muscular frame. The more I looked at him, the more I longed for a father like him.

I burst into tears, choking on my words: 'Mr. Philip, they tease me, calling me an orphan, saying I have no father.'

It seemed that Mr. Philip understood, as he comforted me and promised to give me a father. He told me to go home quickly before my mother started worrying. When I arrived home, I saw my mother looking anxious. I rushed to her, hugged her, and cried again. It seemed she understood what had happened and held me in her arms, her cheeks flushed with tears streaming down. Then an idea struck me. I ran to Mr. Philip and asked:

'Would you like to be my father?'

Mr. Philip was silent for a moment, and my mother seemed embarrassed. After a brief silence, Mr. Philip smiled and replied:

'Yes, I would love to.'

I joyfully hugged Mr. Philip tightly, burying my face in his strong chest.

The next day, at school, my classmates surrounded me again, teasing me. But instead of getting angry or upset, I proudly said, 'My dad's name is Philip.' They shouted, 'No! No! You need a real father like ours!' I didn’t understand what they meant by a 'real' father, so I stayed silent, waiting for school to end.

As I passed the blacksmith shop, I stopped to tell Mr. Philip everything. His face grew serious as he muttered, 'Alright, alright. Go home! You’ll have a father. I’ll be your real father, your proper father.'

A few days later, something incredible happened: Mr. Philip came to my mother and asked her to marry him. He said I needed a father, someone to protect and care for me. He gave my mother the chance to marry a good, decent man. I can’t even express how happy I was! From now on, no one would dare bully me again. Mr. Philip, my strong and kind father, would be my protector. My mother was shocked, looking back and forth between me and Mr. Philip. But in the end, everything fell into place.

Mr. Philip moved in with us. The other blacksmiths praised his decision, and he just smiled. I loved sitting on Mr. Philip’s strong shoulders as we walked along the riverbank, the very place where I had once thought of ending my life. During those moments, I would affectionately call out, 'My dad, Philip! I love you, Dad!' And in those moments, I truly felt like the happiest child in the world.

- I'm going to school, Dad!

- Alright, be careful, my dear! - I bent down to kiss my little child on the forehead and spoke gently.

Watching my daughter happily skip off to school, I felt an overwhelming warmth in my heart. Yes, I bet you can guess who I am by now. I'm Xi-mong, the boy from the short story 'Xi-mong's Father.' Every morning, when I wake up and send my daughter off to school, I think back to when I was a child—before I had a father like Mr. Philip, before I was bullied. Mr. Philip came into my life and changed everything, offering me a better life. At least in my heart, I feel much lighter.

The memories flood back like a slow-motion film, with each image gradually appearing in my mind. I remember the first time I met Mr. Philip, the first time I proudly declared to my classmates that I had a father. After school, the other kids would always crowd around me to ask about my dad. And when I couldn't answer, they would laugh and beat me up. Today was no different. As the bell rang signaling the end of class, they pulled me to the back of the schoolyard, demanding to know about my father. I had no answer, because I didn’t know who my father was either. Every time I asked my mother, she would look at me with a pained expression, her face pale, and she would distract me with a story or try to change the subject. She never told me about my father or who he was. They would beat me relentlessly. Punches and kicks rained down on me. They ignored my pleas. They didn't fear that someone would come to get them. My mother was just a weak, defenseless woman, and she was nothing compared to their fathers.

After they finished beating me, they laughed and walked away. I ran to the riverbank and lay there, crying. The pain and anger were overwhelming. Maybe I should just end it all. I should jump into the river and drown, so they wouldn’t torment me anymore. I cried for a long time. The warmth of the sun on the grass was comforting. The water sparkled like a mirror. I felt so tired, so drained, I wanted to lie down on the grass and sleep forever. Just stay there, under the warm sun.

Suddenly, I saw a green frog hop near my feet. I decided to catch it, and after three failed attempts, I finally grabbed both of its hind legs. I laughed as the frog struggled to escape. It crouched on its large legs, then suddenly leapt, stiffening its legs like two wooden planks, its eyes wide with yellow rims. It flailed its front legs in the air, as if trying to swat at something invisible. Watching it, I remembered a toy made of wooden planks that could be used to control little soldiers. But the memory made me think of home, of my mother, and I felt a deep sadness. I felt ashamed and empty for not having a father. I cried again. My sobs grew louder, and I needed something to help me pull myself together. I knelt down and said a prayer, as I always did before bed. Only God could help heal my wounded soul now. I wanted to pray smoothly, as I usually did, but right now I couldn’t because of my choking sobs. My mind couldn’t think clearly, and my eyes were blurred with tears. I cried in despair.

Then, a strong hand landed on my shoulder, and a deep voice spoke kindly in my ear:

- What’s troubling you, my child?

I turned to look, wiping my tear-filled eyes to see who was speaking. I saw a tall worker, with black, curly hair and a worried, compassionate expression. I answered him, my voice choked with sobs:

- They beat me... because... I... I don’t have a father... no father.

My words broke into sobs. The pain and humiliation spilled out in my words. I was just a boy, seven or eight years old, unable to brush off the cruel words and actions of my classmates. They affected me deeply, and I longed for a father to love and care for me, just like any other child in the world. The worker smiled at me kindly:

- What’s wrong? Doesn’t everyone have a father?

- I... I don’t have a father - I said, struggling to speak. Every time I faced the truth that I didn’t have a father, my heart ached.

The worker’s face became serious. He seemed to be thinking about something, and after a while, he spoke to me:

- Don’t worry anymore, child. Let’s go home with your mother, and I’ll give you... a father.

When he said that, something inside me suddenly sparked. I had a strange feeling of hope, as if a wish had been granted. He said he would give me a father? That meant I would have a father! I wouldn’t be teased or bullied anymore, right? I stood up and took the worker's large, rough hand. His hand enveloped mine. He led me home. As we walked from the riverbank to my house, I felt like I was just like any other child. The worker felt like my father. And he would protect me, just as he promised, wouldn’t he?

When we reached my house, a small white-painted cottage, I ran inside and called out:

- Mom!

My mother appeared in the doorway, looking pale and serious. She was a strong woman. She had been deceived and abandoned by a man, and I was the result of that betrayal. But she never took her anger out on me. She always showed me boundless love, as if trying to make up for what I lacked—a father’s love. She eyed the worker warily. After being deceived, my mother was always cautious like that. The worker nervously held his worker’s hat and hesitated:

- Excuse me, ma'am, I found this boy by the river and brought him home.

But I jumped up, ran to my mother, and burst into tears:

- No, Mom, I wanted to jump into the river and drown, because they beat me... beat me... because I don’t have a father.

I didn’t realize how much my words would hurt my mother. I didn’t understand the pain they caused her. Tears fell from her eyes as she held me tight and kissed my cheeks. I didn’t notice her actions. Instead, I ran to the worker and asked:

- Do you want to be my father?

The worker was silent for a moment, his eyes on my mother. When he didn’t answer, I said again, as if threatening him:

- If you don’t want to, I’ll go back to the river and drown.

The worker laughed, as if it were a joke. His smile was warm and kind:

- Of course, I would love to!

- What’s your name? - I quickly asked - so I can tell the others when they ask about you?

- Philip - he replied.

I had to pause for a moment to repeat and remember that name. A wave of joy spread through me, lifting my spirits. I wasn’t sad anymore. I raised my arms and said:

- Okay! Mr. Philip, you’re my father!

The worker lifted me up, suddenly kissed my cheeks, and walked away with long strides. His broad, strong back made me feel safe and reassured.

The next morning, when I went to school, the mocking laughter was waiting for me. After class, when they gathered to tease me again, I shouted back at them, throwing a stone at them: “My dad? My dad is Philip.” Still, those mean kids didn’t let it go. They kept asking and wanted to beat me. But I looked at them with defiance. At that moment, I had a strong belief that, like every other child, I had a father. I was ready to endure their abuse, but I would never run away. Because I had a father. My father was Philip.

I’ve lived with that belief ever since. Mr. Philip revived the spirit of a child like me and protected me from the cruelty of the world. Thanks to him, I grew stronger. I now have a wife and a lovely daughter. My mother passed away a long time ago. I will care for my daughter and ensure she never suffers the way I did.

My name is Xi-mong, a child without a father. Even though I am surrounded by the love of my mother, I still feel lonely whenever my friends tease me. One day, after school, I wandered to the riverbank. The weather was warm and pleasant. I longed for the feeling of lying on the grass under the warm sun. But for some reason, as I thought about home and my mother, I felt a deep sadness. I trembled, knelt down, and began to pray, just like I did before bed. But instead of praying, I could only sob. Suddenly, a strong hand rested on my shoulder, and a deep voice asked:

- What is troubling you, my child?

I turned around and saw a tall worker standing before me, with curly black hair and a kind expression. With tearful eyes, I answered:

- They... they hit me... because... I... don't... have... a father!

The worker smiled and asked:

- What's the matter? Who doesn't have a father?

I repeated, still choked with tears:

- I... I don't have a father!

The worker's face became serious as he looked at me. It seemed like he had realized who I was. He said:

- Come on now, don't be sad. Let's go back to your mother. You'll have a father soon.

I was shocked, but I stood up and followed the worker. He took my hand and led me down the road, occasionally glancing at me with a smile. Before long, we arrived at my house. I pointed at the house and said:

- Here it is!

Then, I shouted:

- Mom!

My mother appeared. The worker looked at her, and when I saw the look in his eyes, I felt something serious, something I couldn't quite understand. The worker took off his hat and held it in his hands, speaking hesitantly:

- Here, ma'am, I brought back your lost child from near the riverbank.

Hearing this, I jumped into my mother's arms and cried out:

- No, Mom, I wanted to jump into the river and drown, because they beat me... they beat me... because I don't have a father.

My mother embraced me and kissed me, her face filled with tears. I knew she must have been heartbroken to hear me say that. I pulled away from her, ran to the worker, and asked:

- Would you like to be my father?

The worker stood silent for a moment. I was surprised to see my mother leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. I asked again:

- If you don't want to, I'll run back to the river and drown.

The worker smiled and responded:

- Of course, I would like to.

- Then, what's your name, so I can tell them when they ask about you? - I smiled at him.

- Philip!

I paused for a second, trying to remember that name. A sense of joy filled my heart, and I no longer felt sad. I spread my arms wide and said:

- Alright! Philip will be my father.

Suddenly, the worker lifted me into the air, kissed both my cheeks unexpectedly, and quickly walked away.

The next day at school, I heard mocking laughter. After class, when my classmates were about to tease me again, I shouted at them:

- My dad? His name is Philip!

They erupted in laughter, shouting:

- Philip? Who's Philip? What's Philip? Where did you get this Philip?

I didn't respond. I just gave them a defiant look, ready to endure whatever punishment they would throw at me instead of running away. Despite their taunts, I stood my ground. It wasn't until the teacher arrived that they stopped shouting, and I was able to go home.

I am Xi-mong, an unfortunate child who was born without a father. Though I was raised with the loving care of my mother, the emptiness still remains in my heart. I was terrified every time I went to school because of the teasing from my classmates.

I can still remember that dark time in my life, probably the darkest period when I was around seven years old. Every day after school, I could hear the whispers of the other children, following me closely, plotting their cruel teasing. I had no choice but to endure it and never dared to fight back. Once, in a burst of anger, I charged at them, but of course, I was no match for their numbers. I could only cry.

There were times when I got so angry that I fought back physically, not just with punches and kicks, but I even bit one of them. In return, I received a brutal beating. One of them shouted: 'Go tell your dad!' It broke my heart. They were so many, and I was alone. They were right— I was just a kid without a father. I tried to hold back my tears, but it was hard. The other kids laughed joyfully, chanting: 'No dad!' I skipped school and wandered along the quiet riverbank, staring at the rushing waters, thinking I might end it all. I wanted to drown myself because I had no father. I lay down on the grass, thinking of home, thinking of my mother, and the sadness overwhelmed me.

The sky was beautiful, and the water was clear like a mirror. I enjoyed the calm moments, letting myself lie on the soft grass. A little frog suddenly hopped onto my foot, and after several attempts, I finally caught it. Holding it in my hand, I remembered my childhood toy, and that triggered an outburst of tears. Suddenly, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder, followed by a deep voice:

- What's wrong, child? Why are you so sad?

I turned around and saw a man, a worker with a thick black beard and unruly hair, looking at me with care. Through my sobs, I said:

- They beat me because I don't have a father.

The worker smiled gently and asked:

- Why? Who doesn't have a father?

My heart tightened as I replied:

- But I don't have... a father.

The worker hesitated for a moment and said:

- Don't cry, child. I'll take you home to your mother. And soon, you'll have a father.

When we arrived in front of the little house, I shouted:

- Mom!

- Sir, I found this lost child near the riverbank... - The worker told my mother.

I ran to my mother and threw myself into her arms, sobbing, saying:

- No, Mom, I wanted to jump into the river. They beat me... they beat me because I have no father.

My mother blushed with embarrassment, holding me tightly while tears streamed down her face. Suddenly, I ran to the worker and asked:

- Would you be willing to be my father?

There was no answer, so I declared:

- If you don't want to be my father, I'll jump into the river.

- Of course I will, little one!

I then asked:

- What's your name, so I can tell others if they ask?

- Philip!

I paused for a second, committing the name to memory, and said with conviction:

- Now you are my father!

Happy, I embraced Philip tightly, pressing my face against his broad chest.

The next day at school, the kids gathered around to tease me again. Instead of feeling angry or upset, I simply responded:

- My dad's name is Philip.

The kids screamed in confusion:

- Philip? Which Philip?

I didn’t answer. I just gave them a defiant look, ready to endure whatever they threw at me instead of running away.

My childhood was filled with sadness, mostly because I didn’t have a father. Although my mother loved me deeply, I still felt the void of not having a father. I often admired the other children with fathers, happily playing and walking to school with them. What scared me the most back then were the cruel taunts from the neighborhood kids and my classmates at school.

Despite my mother's advice to avoid them, I found myself fighting with the other kids multiple times. Each time, they beat me up. After every fight, I would return home upset and tell my mother everything. She would hug me, comfort me, and in the end, we would both cry together.

One day, after being mocked for not having a father, I lost my temper and charged at them. They beat me up again. Feeling humiliated, I ran to the riverbank and cried my heart out. The warm, pleasant weather and the soft sunlight made the grass feel comforting, and the water shimmered like a mirror. I wanted to lie down and sleep, but I couldn’t. The cruel words they said kept echoing in my mind, making my head dizzy and my body exhausted. I wanted to sink into the river and forget everything, but for some reason, I hesitated. My tired eyes followed the floating bubbles drifting on the water's surface.

Lost in sorrow, I lay back on the ground, using my hands as a pillow and staring at the sky. Above me, the endless blue sky stretched, with clouds drifting lazily. I noticed three white clouds closely grouped together, resembling a father and mother holding hands with their child. I burst into tears and cried out: 'Dad! Where are you? Why aren't you with me?' There was no answer, only the sound of the wind rustling the reeds along the river. I buried my face in the wet grass and slowly snapped out of it, thinking about my mother. My dear Blang-sot! If I didn’t come home on time, my mother would be so worried. If I died, she would cry all her tears, and maybe she would die with me. The thought of that made me ashamed and self-loathing. No! I have no reason to die! I need to go to school, grow up, and work to take care of my mother! My gentle, hardworking mother raised me. She was everything to me.

Suddenly, a strong hand landed on my shoulder, and a deep voice spoke: 'What’s troubling you, child?' I turned around to find it was Uncle Philip, the blacksmith from the village. Uncle Philip had curly hair and a thick beard, his wrinkled eyes framed a square face, and his large, muscular body stood before me. The more I looked at him, the more I wished for a father like him.

In tears, I sobbed, choking on my words:

- Uncle! They teased me, calling me an orphan, saying I don’t have a father!

At that moment, Uncle Philip seemed to understand my pain and comforted me, promising he would be my father. He advised me to go home before my mother became anxious. When I arrived home, I found my mother was very worried. I ran into her arms, crying uncontrollably. She seemed to understand what had happened, and she held me close, her cheeks flushed and tears streaming down her face. Then, an idea suddenly came to me. I ran to Uncle Philip and asked:

- Would you like to be my father?

Uncle Philip remained silent, and my mother seemed shy. After a moment of silence, Uncle Philip smiled and said:

- Yes, I would love to.

With joy, I hugged Uncle Philip tightly, burying my face in his strong chest.

The next day at school, the kids gathered around and teased me again. Instead of feeling upset or angry, I proudly said: 'My dad’s name is Philip.' The other kids shouted: 'No way! You need a real dad like ours!' I didn’t understand what they meant by a 'real dad,' so I stayed quiet, waiting for school to end. On my way home, I stopped by the blacksmith’s shop and told Uncle Philip everything. He seemed deep in thought before muttering: 'Alright! Alright! Go home now! You’ll have a real father soon.'

A few days later, something incredible happened: Uncle Philip came to my mother and proposed to her. I didn’t need to ask how happy I was! From then on, no one would dare to bully me again. Dad Philip, strong and kind, would be the solid support in my life. My mother was so surprised, looking back and forth between me and Dad Philip. But in the end, everything worked out as it should.

Dad Philip moved in with us. The other blacksmiths praised his decision, and Dad just smiled. I loved sitting on his broad shoulders every evening as we walked along the riverbank—the very place where I had once considered giving up on life.

My past was filled with sorrow and despair. But without those difficult days, I would never have experienced the true happiness I feel now.

It all started on my first day of school. I was full of joy and excitement, eager to start a new chapter in life. I walked into the classroom with a bright smile, but just as I stepped inside, a group of classmates surrounded me. One of them started throwing cruel words at me, words that still haunt me to this day. I felt frustrated but remained silent because, at that moment... I didn’t have a father. I cried, yet my classmates didn't stop their cruel game. My first day, which I had anticipated so much, ended in disappointment, and I wandered off to the riverbank.

The sun was warm, the air gentle, and the river sparkled like a mirror. I wanted to lie down and sleep, but the cruel words echoed in my mind, making sleep impossible. My head felt dizzy, my limbs weary. I wanted to sink into the river to forget everything, but for some reason, I hesitated. My tired eyes followed the bubbles floating on the water.

Just then, a small green frog hopped by, catching my attention. I tried to grab it, but missed three times before finally catching its legs. It squirmed in my hands, trying to escape. I couldn’t help but laugh at the little creature. Its large eyes widened as it struggled, its legs stiffening and extending like wooden sticks, its front feet swatting the air like little hands. The playful frog reminded me of a childhood toy and suddenly, I thought of home, of my mother. A wave of sadness washed over me and I began to cry again. My body trembled, and I knelt, whispering prayers like I did before bed, but I couldn’t finish them. The sadness enveloped me, and I couldn’t think of anything else. I sat there, hugging my face, sobbing uncontrollably.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and a deep voice spoke kindly to me:

- What's troubling you, child?

I turned around and saw a tall man with curly black hair and a warm, compassionate gaze. His face was full of kindness. I answered, my voice choked with sobs:

- They beat me... because... because I don’t have a father... I don’t have a father...

- Why so? – the man smiled gently – who doesn’t have a father?

I struggled to speak through my tears:

- I... I don’t have a father.

The man’s expression suddenly grew serious, as though he understood. He said:

- Don't be sad, child. Let’s go home with your mother. I’ll give you a father.

At that moment, I wasn’t sure if his words were true, but as we walked home, my heart filled with hope.

- This is where I live! – I said, pointing to our small, whitewashed house.

My mother came outside just as the man admired the house. He nervously took off his hat and said:

- Here, ma'am, I’m bringing back your lost child from near the river.

Before my mother could respond, I rushed to hug her and burst into tears:

- No, mom, I wanted to drown in the river... because they beat me... because I don’t have a father...

My mother’s cheeks flushed red, her eyes filled with deep sorrow. She hugged me tightly, kissing me through her own tears. My sobs grew louder. Then, as if struck by a thought, I suddenly ran to the man and asked:

- Would you like to be my father?

My heart raced with anticipation, and my mother leaned against the wall, her hands clutching her chest. There was no answer, so I spoke again, more firmly:

- If you don’t want to, I will go back and drown myself in the river.

The man finally smiled and replied:

- Yes, I would like to be your father.

I was overjoyed and asked eagerly:

- What’s your name, so I can tell them when they ask about you?

- Philip, – the man replied.

I paused for a moment to remember his name, then, no longer sad, I stretched out my arms and said:

- Alright then! Father Philip, you’re my dad!

With great joy, I was lifted into the air, kissed on both cheeks, and carried away by Philip, his steps long and hurried.

The next day at school, as soon as I entered the classroom, I heard mocking laughter. The day passed quickly, and when class was over, the same classmate who had teased me before tried to do so again. But this time, I shouted back:

- My dad’s name is Philip!

All around me, my classmates began shouting in disbelief:

- Philip? Which Philip? Where did you get a Philip from?

But I remained silent, my gaze defiant. Fortunately, the teacher arrived just then, and my classmates dispersed. I thanked the teacher and left the school, feeling prouder and happier than ever before.

That’s my story. Now, Father Philip lives with us, and my classmates no longer tease me. Looking back, those old days were sad, but I am grateful, so very grateful, to Father Philip.

The word 'father' has always been so dear to me, as I’ve dreamed countless times of having a real father. And that day, when Mr. Philip accepted me as his son, it became the happiest moment of my life.

I am a boy without a father. My mother, Blang-Sot, is a beautiful and young woman with a stern face. I don’t know who my father is, but I know my mother and I just moved here. This, however, became a disaster for me, because I was different from the other children—I didn’t have a father, and that was a source of shame and pain that my classmates relentlessly mocked me for. They couldn’t understand the hurt of growing up without a father’s love and protection. They had never experienced such pain, and their cruel words stung. Every time they teased me, my heart ached, and I was filled with anger at my mother for not giving me a father. I also knew that, although adults didn’t say it out loud, they would often look at me with pity, whispering, “He’s a child without a father.”

That day, like any other, I went to school with a heavy heart, and my classmates resumed their mockery. Overwhelmed by sadness and rage, I decided to run away and end it all. I believed that if I ended my life, I wouldn’t have to endure their hurtful taunts anymore.

Outside, the scenery was beautiful. The sun was warm but not harsh, casting its glow on the grass and the flowing water. The air felt fresh, comfortable, and peaceful. Frogs hopped around me, and I tried to catch them, but they were quick. Each time I missed, I kept trying, until finally, I managed to catch one. As I watched the little frog struggle to escape, I was reminded of the toys I used to play with, made of small pieces of wood that could be stacked and moved around. Suddenly, I thought of my mother, and a wave of emotion flooded over me. I burst into tears, crying for the pain and frustration I felt.

But then, from behind me, a warm, strong hand rested on my trembling shoulders. A deep voice asked,

- What's bothering you so much, my child?

It was a tall worker with a thick black beard. I wiped my tears and, choking up, said,

- I... I don’t have a father.

The man’s face softened, his eyes filled with kindness. He gently patted my back with his large hands and said,

- Don’t cry, little one. Come with me to your mother. I will give you a father.

At the mention of having a father, I immediately stopped crying and felt a surge of happiness. The worker took my hand, his blackened, calloused palms warm and reassuring. I wished he could be my father. Soon, we arrived at my house, and he knocked on the door. My mother appeared, and he handed me over to her, saying in a hesitant voice,

- Here, ma'am, I found this child lost near the riverbank.

All the feelings of shame and sorrow returned, and I ran to hug my mother, crying uncontrollably. Through my tears, I said,

- No, mom, I wanted to jump into the river to drown because they hurt me... hurt me... because I don’t have a father.

I cried harder on my mother's shoulder. Then, an idea struck me. Maybe I could ask the worker to be my father. Without hesitation, I pulled away from my mother’s arms, ran to the worker, and asked,

- Would you be my father?

The worker was silent, so I shouted,

- If you don’t want to be my father, I will jump back into the river and drown.

Upon hearing my repeated threat, he immediately nodded in agreement. I seized the opportunity to ask his name—his name was Philip. From that moment, I had a father. My father was Philip, and I couldn’t have been happier. No longer would I have to endure the torment and mockery from my classmates.

The next day, I went to school filled with joy and confidence. If anyone teased me, I proudly declared, my father was Philip. Having a father brought me joy, the greatest happiness in my life. It gave me the strength to face all of life’s challenges.