The Friend of Twenty Years

Lan returned to her childhood home after months of being caught up in the whirlwind of city life. She had always worried about her father—his aging hands, his hunched back, the way he led their old buffalo to the fields, step by weary step. That day, as she watched him stroke its graying hide, she felt a sharp pang in her heart.

“Dad, why don’t we sell the buffalo?” she asked gently. “You’ve worked hard enough. Let it go, and rest.”

Her father looked up, his weathered face unreadable. His eyes lingered on the buffalo, standing quietly by his side, chewing the last of its evening fodder. The silence stretched between them like an unspoken farewell. Finally, he nodded.

A few days later, the buyer arrived. The buffalo was led away, its dark eyes glancing back, as if searching for something—one last comfort, one last certainty. Lan’s father stood motionless, his hand clenched by his side. The rope that had tethered him to his companion for twenty years now dangled, empty and useless.

Lan returned to the city with a sense of relief, believing she had lightened his burden. But one evening, as she absentmindedly checked the security camera at home, she saw something that made her breath hitch.

Her father sat alone by the empty buffalo pen, staring into the night. His back was slumped, his hands resting idly on his knees. He remained there for hours, unmoving. The sight of him, alone in the silence, broke her heart.

The neighbors noticed, too. Some criticized her, saying she had been thoughtless, that she did not understand what the buffalo meant to him. Others defended her, arguing that a man his age should not bear the hardship of tending an aging beast. The debate spilled onto the internet, drawing thousands of opinions. But all the voices in the world meant nothing—because in the end, Lan knew the only heart that truly ached was her father’s.

She returned home as soon as she could. He was sitting outside, his gaze lost in the distance.

“Dad…” she whispered. “You still miss it, don’t you?”

He sighed, his fingers tightening around the worn-out stem of his pipe.

“It’s strange, child. Twenty years… it wasn’t just an animal. It was a friend.”

His voice was soft, heavy with nostalgia. He turned toward the empty pen, and a weary smile crossed his lips.

“When I bought it, we were barely scraping by. People said I was a fool—spending what little we had on a scrawny creature. But I raised it, fed it handfuls of grass, buckets of water… and in return, it pulled our plow, brought food to our table. It worked beside me through rain and sun, through hunger and harvest. When your mother passed, when you left for school, it was the only one that stayed.”

His voice caught, but he continued.

“I used to sit by its side after long days. I’d talk to it, and though it never spoke, it listened. It was always there.”

Tears welled up in Lan’s eyes. She had never seen it this way before. The buffalo was not just livestock, not just a means to an end—it was a steadfast companion, a silent witness to her father’s struggles, his joys, his solitude.

She reached for his hand, her voice trembling.

“Dad… I’m sorry. I thought I was helping. I didn’t realize that sometimes, what we call hardship… is also happiness.”

He patted her hand gently, his smile wistful.

“Don’t worry, child. It’s just… when you’ve held on to something for so long, letting go feels like losing a part of yourself. But I still have you. And as long as you come home more often… I’ll be alright.”

Lan wiped her tears and smiled. She couldn’t bring the buffalo back, but she could be there. She could fill the emptiness with her presence, with new moments, with love.

And Now, A Question for You…

Was Lan right or wrong?

On one hand, she wanted to ease her father’s burdens. On the other, she unknowingly took away something irreplaceable. If you were in her place, what would you have done?

ST: 12:54 31/03/2025