Friday, December 05, 2008

The Truth of the Orb

How it came to be referred to as the ‘Orb’ is not known. What is known, what is oft repeated, is how the Orb came into my father’s possession.

The story starts with a journey; a pilgrimage to a distant land.

“The land where legends are born,” my father would say with a faraway look in his eye.

My father bought a ticket and crossed the ocean. He crossed alone and in silence keeping his distance from other pilgrims making the same voyage. He chose to believe that his path was the only true path. This wasn’t a game for him. This was his life, his passion, his one belief. This was his only goal.

“A goal makes all the difference son – always remember that.”

My father marched from landfall to towns centre. He blocked out the chanting and praying that filled the air. He ignored the trinket sellers that accosted him at every footstep.

“Faith isn’t a song or a toy son. Faith is food for the soul.”

The crowd was surging towards the holy ground and my father was dragged along in the flow.

Once there he prayed with uplifted arms and tears in his eyes. And as he prayed a shrill whistle pierced the silence and the Orb flew through the air straight into his hands; a gift from God himself.

Now the Orb sits in a shrine in a small corner of our house. Father says that one day it will all be mine. But, to be honest, I’m more of a rugby man.
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