“Say it again!”, she said. I repeated—  “Poker”. She smiled. I didn’t get it.

I remember their faces when he hit that six on the last ball. I remember being numb. I made 7 figures in 10 minutes. I was a degenerate gambler, I still am. They were confused seeing me like that. They figured I should be ecstatic. I should be jumping, celebrating, going frantic. But it did nothing. That number didn’t mean anything to me. Making that decision to bet that amount when the entire world was against me was the thrill. Them seeing me and telling me I’m crazy betting that money —and I’m throwing money at the bookies, but hey, I had a feeling. Paid off handsomely.

I noticed. I noticed subtle changes in their behaviour after they knew I had that kind of money at my disposal. I didn’t tell them for the longest time that I gave it all to father. I wanted to see the patterns. I was curious. 

I’m curious how it would be if I had no possessions. I asked her, what would you do? She passed the verbal test, at least. I’m curious because Mom went through that. Because Father had everything and then suddenly nothing at all. No house, no possessions, no money. She stuck through. They were dirt poor and there wasn’t a single source of happiness in their life. But they were together. 

The invisible hand. I’m above it. From my childhood. Never cared, never will. Nice to have. But doesn’t control me in a way that its absence would matter my existence. I’ll live on a farm in a hut with my animals, with her. I hope it would be enough for her. 

As Mom and Dad lived on a farm, together.

I’ll go onto take crazy risks with money in my life, I’ll possibly go broke, or make a ton and spend it all. My kids will be bullied at school because they have rich parents. Or they would live on a farm, trained in every aspect of life by their father. Either way, I will be there— training them— on how to deal with the cards life throws at you—and how to win that hand of Poker.