This story is not about a time I have lost my way, simply because I have felt as if I have never lost my way. Instead this is a retelling of a time where my father has felt as if he had lost his way and has wondered to this day why he has done what he had done. When my father was a kid at 15 years old and living in Argentina, he and his dad were having arguments about what to do with his life, they had disagreements. My father was young and wanted to feel as if he knew it all so he thought that he was right, and his father told him that he was wrong and that he had more experience going through with what he was going through. He told my father that he was hanging out with the wrong crowd and his dad warned him about it. He told him that he needs to get away with these people because if something were to happen then they would say that my dad was probably a part of it though association.

And what happened a few days later is that his so-called “friends” robbed a deli. Someone stole the key and looted the place taking things like cigarettes, candy, snacks, and more. They even went as much to open the cabinet and stole all the money that was in it. The following day his boy gave him a bag to hold, it was filled with a fourth of the things they stole. My father, not knowing what happened, asked what was in it and they told him the truth but not telling him where they got it from. He then hid it but not in his own house because he knew his mother would find it, but instead asked another friend to keep it for the time being. After that the police started the investigation, and they got 3 of the guys and after the interrogation one of them confessed that one of their “boys” had it. As you can see where this is going, they asked around and my father’s name popped out more than once because he hung around them.

They went to my father’s house and asked him about it which he denied any involvement. However, now his name was all over the neighborhood as a kid who did such things. But that was not the end of things. They then found other friends of my father and eventually found the bag at the friend’s house. So then his other friend got in trouble and that is when he decided to step forward. But even though he confessed his boy still got caught up in it by being associated. When he asked where his friend was being held they said that he was not being held at the police station, but instead at the hospital for injuries.

What my father found out later was that when the police found the bag at the house, his father beat him to the point of hospitalization (he was not an abusive father but this was back then and that is what you usually do in Argentina). After they got to the hospital the father of his friend was then arrested for child abuse and child endangerment. What was worse was that since my father was a US citizen (was born in the US but went to Argentina immediately after) nothing happened to him, but he lost a good friend and his friend’s father did not want to do anything with him after he tried to apologize. At that moment my dad reflected on what he did, thinking to himself why he did all that, what got him to this position, and what he could have done better.