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As a young boy I had always dreamt of being an artist. While others were playing soccer, or on their phones I was always sketching things I'd seen before. I had this little book, where I often sketched whatever I saw. The book was always with me, and whenever I exhausted the pages of the book, I would just attach a new book to it using gum. My Dad didn't support me, he often told me art would never take me anywhere. I would often argue with him and try to make him reason with me, but he was adamant. 

There was this time during dinner. I was sketching this beautiful bird I had seen earlier that day. I was so engrossed in the sketch I wasn't paying attention to the well garnished plate of spaghetti and meatballs that laid in front of me.

"Vincent, you better stop what you are doing and start eating." My dad said to me angrily.

"I'm almost done dad, just give me a couple of seconds." I pleaded

"Give me that" he said as he tried to pick the book from the table in front of me.

I tried to stop him, but I could only grab hold of that page. The page tore out and I fell backwards. Attempting to stabilize myself, I grabbed the table clothe. Sending everyone's food into the air and crashing into the wall behind me. For a couple of minutes no one said anything. We watched the spaghetti slide slowly down the wall. That was probably one of the worst nights of my life. I never saw my book ever again. All I had was the piece of paper with the bird drawing. 

When it was time to go to college, I knew I couldn't study art, so I chose accounting. I wasn't really interested in it, but my grades in it were good, so it was a no-brainer. I went to Washington University and graduated with a 3.5 GPA. 

I was able to get a job at a bank and was doing relatively well. But I couldn't help but feel empty inside. I would always wonder what life would have been like if I had followed my childhood dreams. Would I have succeeded? Was this really my best life? It was the basically the same thing over and over again. I was always eager to just get back to my apartment, have my bath, prepare my dinner and sketch to my heart's content. Along the line I had also taken an interest in digital art. I often converted my sketches into digital art. 

A few years passed and I was starting to get used to my life. One afternoon, while I was at work I received a phone call from my mum. She sounded scared.

"what happened mum" I asked

"it's your dad, he just collapsed in the garden. I'm taking him to western medical center. Meet us there." She said before hanging up.

I immediately told a colleague of mine John to cover for me, before leaving the office.

Thank goodness my dad was awake when I got there. My mum and sister were both by his side, trying their best not to cry. The doctor said he hadn't been taking his epilepsy medication. And that was the reason he had fainted. He said the only way my dad would recover was through surgery. We didn't care, all we wanted was for him to get better, but once the doctor called the price it seemed like a tall order. Where were we supposed to get $118,400 from?


The next few days were pained filled days for me. I could barely think of anything else. All that was on my mind was the getting the money. I had even stopped sketching and creating digital art. I was contemplating getting a loan, but my dad told me he wouldn't accept the treatment if I ruined my life trying to save him. 

My father's epilepsy got worse, his seizures became more frequent. We were all afraid. 

A week from the incident my colleague John came to me smiling like he'd just won the lottery 

"Guess what happened today, Vincent" 

"what" I asked. I wasn't really interested but I just had to reply 

"Remember that day when you asked me to cover for you" 

"yes, I remember" now he'd gotten my attention 

"Well I saw some of your digital artwork on your system, and as I was scrolling I saw this very nice one of a bird. I have been doing research on Nft's, and once I saw that bird I knew it had to be worth something. So I turned it into an Nft. I should have told you this earlier, but I didn't know how to tell you. I knew I had to tell you today because just this morning, it sold for $500,000." 

I was so surprised, all I could do was rejoice. We eventually agreed to split the money 65:35 meaning I got $325,000 while he got $175,000. 

I paid for my father's surgery and it was successful. When he heard about how I got the money he broke into tears and apologized for all the things he had said when I was younger. Though I was  aggrieved I understood that he only wanted the best for me. 

Eventually, I went back to college to pursue my dream.