He woke up, searing pain in places he didn't have the mind to name. His head might have been one of them. He wasn't sure. Eeballaw cringed. He could feel the tears of pain starting to form in his eyes. But something stopped him. Something tall. Something intimidating. He couldn't see it clearly. His eyes were too blurry.
"I thought you would be bawling your eyes out." A voice came from the figure. Eeballaw knew this voice. The thick Australian accent was a real giveaway.
"What's wrong, can't speak?" The figure, no, his father, sighed. "Well, I guess I can expect as much from anyone after going through hell like that. You should see the stitches on you."
"Hi." It was all Eeballaw could say. The morphine started to kick in and the pain faded.
"Hi? That's all you got to say? Hi?" His father chuckled. "Well, at least you can talk, that's something. Most blokes would be shitting themselves 'bout now."
Praise was always welcome. Eeballaw grinned. "Other blokes ain't me."
"You got that right. Man, when you ain't scarin yourself o'er nothing, you sure are resilient."
"I try my best."
For many, this interaction was natural between father and son. Casual conversation, a bit of pride, but this sort of caring emotion… His father was no good at it. These were rare moments for the two. Moments when they connected as much as they could. Moments they both treasured.
Eeballaw's father, though far from perfect, still loved the boy. Those times when he could actually show it though, those were rare.
The conversation ended almost as soon as it started, creating an awkward silence. But still, it was a wonderful moment. Eeballaw smiled, reminded of the card. If it created such a miracle as this, it certainly was lucky.