On a cold Monday night in January, before bed, I wept as my father whispered in my ear, “This too shall pass.” It all started on an ordinary Monday morning. I popped out of bed, slipped on my clothes, washed up, and jolted out the door. After getting to the station, one of the worst days of my life began. Several unlucky experiences spanned my day. I missed the train just as I ascended to the platform. Then, I got on the express train, instead of the local train, and had to return to Avenue J via a third train.

After getting off at Avenue J, I scurried down the stairwell and out to the street, and suddenly, a large puddle of water was propelled in my direction by an enormous truck. I was drenched in a mixture of filth and water from the street. The rest of the day followed with numerous other agitating experiences. I failed a test, lost my wallet, and got into a fight with a close friend of mine. But the worst experience of all was yet to come.

When I arrived home, my mother had been crying. She bore the news that would put me in despair for months. While desperately trying to compose herself, she told me that my grandmother was diagnosed with a very serious illness. At that moment, all the upsetting occurrences that happened that day withered away. I broke down into tears, thinking about how my grandmother, who was practically my second mother, would suffer. It seemed as though nothing could console me, except for my what my father said to me. His words echoed in my head, “This too shall pass, son. This too shall pass.”