*Let’s go, Dad.*

*Let’s go, Dad.* ------------------------------------------ Anton Chekhov writes in one of his stories : At the bus stop, an old man and a young pregnant woman were waiting together. The man kept staring at the woman’s round belly, intrigued. Then he gently dared to ask: *"How far along are you?"* The young woman seemed elsewhere, lost in thought. Worry was written on her tired face. At first, she didn’t answer. Then, after a few seconds of silence, she murmured: *"I’m at twenty-three weeks..."* *"Is this your first child?"* he asked. *"Yes,"* she replied, her voice barely audible. *"Don’t be afraid,"* he added. *"Everything will be all right, you’ll see."* She placed a hand on her belly, looked straight ahead, her eyes shining, fighting back tears. *"I hope so…"* she replied. The old man continued: *"Sometimes we let ourselves be overwhelmed by worries that, in truth, don’t deserve it..."* *"Maybe…,"* she whispered sadly. He looked at her more closely, with more compassion. *"You seem to be going through a hard time. Your husband… is he not with you?"* *"He left me four months ago."* *"Why?!"* *"It’s complicated…"* *"And your loved ones? Your family, friends ? No one to support you?"* She took a deep breath. *"I live alone with my father… He’s ill."* A long silence. Then the old man asked: *"Is he still the pillar you once knew as a child?"* Tears rolled down the young woman’s cheeks. *"Yes ..… Even now."* *"Even in his condition?* *What’s wrong with him?"* *"He no longer remembers who I am ..…"* She spoke those words just as the bus arrived. She stood up, took a few steps… Then changed her mind, came back to the old man, gently took his hand, and said tenderly: *"Let’s go, Dad."*