"What Your Soul Needs"

The fire crackled softly as a father and his teenage son sat on the porch, the cool night air wrapping around them. The stars above glittered like distant promises, and the world felt quiet enough for stories to carry weight.

“Let me tell you about two men,” the father began, taking a deep breath. His son, curious, leaned in closer.

The father’s voice was steady as he spoke. “The first man was a politician. Not one of those empty suits who care about nothing but power, but a man with a purpose. He grew up watching his mother work herself to the bone, sacrificing everything for her family and her community. She was the kind of woman who could lift others even while carrying her own burdens. When she died, he vowed to honor her by making a difference in the world—a real difference.

“He worked tirelessly, his mind consumed by how to reshape the system, to put power back in the hands of people like his mother. He sacrificed everything—his health, his relationships—because he believed his work was bigger than himself. And it was. When he was assassinated, his policies hadn’t yet taken hold, but his death sparked a movement. The outrage over his loss forced the nation to act. His vision changed the country for the better.

“But he didn’t live to see it. He left his family grieving and a life unlived. He died great, but he died young.”

The father paused, letting the story settle before continuing.

“The second man’s life was quieter. He grew up in a stable, loving home, went to college, married his sweetheart, and had kids of his own. He worked a corporate job, kept a tidy house, and lived a life that many would call good.

“He was a decent man. He was kind, loved his family, and took pleasure in small things—a good meal, a sunny day, the laughter of his children. But deep down, he couldn’t help but feel bored, like life had passed him by without him really grabbing hold of it. He brushed it off most days and kept going. He lived to an old age, saw his children grow up, and passed quietly in his sleep. He wasn’t remembered beyond those who loved him.

“Two men. Two lives. One burned bright but short. The other lived long but stayed in the shadows. So, son, tell me—what’s better? Dying and being great, or living and being mediocre?”

The boy stared into the fire, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “They both sound… lonely in different ways.”

The father nodded. “That’s the truth of it. Greatness often comes at a cost. And comfort can come with regrets. There’s no perfect answer. It’s about what you can live with. What your soul needs to feel alive.”

The boy looked up at his father. “What about you? What would you choose?”

The father smiled, his eyes reflecting the firelight. “I’d choose to be the first man. Something in me wants to make a difference—to leave the world better than I found it. I know it would come at a price, but I think I’d feel more alive chasing that purpose, even if it meant leaving early.”

He paused, his gaze turning distant. “There’s something about the idea of igniting change, even if it costs everything. It’s not about fame or recognition. It’s about knowing I didn’t waste the time I had.”

The boy nodded, thoughtful. “But what if you could be like the second man and still make a difference?”

The father chuckled softly. “Then I’d be lucky. But most of the time, real change requires sacrifice. That’s the part they don’t tell you.”

They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling between them, the question lingering like smoke in the air. The boy wasn’t sure what his answer would be yet. But he felt the weight of the choice—and he knew it mattered.