I remember your Chuck Taylor's the most. It was a murky shade of green, a hole on the left side, your pinkie toe visible yet you did not mind. After all you were a rock star dad, your long hair tied at your back and walking with your trademark swagger. Your likes coined the grunge era in the early 80's and you hold on to it as long as you want. We held hands as you shepherded me to my Kindergarten class, my Hello Kitty back pack and my Precious Moments lunch box in tow. Wawa made an elaborate cucumber sandwich with tuna, thrown a piece of apple and my favourite Hiro Chocolate biscuits just in case I will throw the sandwich out of disgust. I remembered how I held your hand tightly, never wanting to let go, I was scared shitless of the strange place full of kids my age, wooden blocks on the floor, plastic kitchen sets, a headless Barbie doll, a red wagon with a ruddy bear as the passenger and hundred of Legos scattered on the floor. My teacher in her stiff grey uniform and horn rimmed glasses smiled benevolently as you spoke to her, while I eyed my new surroundings. I chose a seat at the back near the books and started leafing the bright coloured pages. You came to me and rumpled my head, securing my pig tails and kissing me good bye. I beg you to stay in the cafeteria, my eyes misting with apprehension and finally you said yes. I checked you from time to time to see if you are really there and I can see you with all the nannies and the mothers in their gossip hour. You were the only father there, smoking your Marlboro Reds, killing time whilst waiting for me. This went on for several weeks and I can only imagine now the boredom yet you stayed. I was used for everyone to wait for me.
I remembered how you laboured with my schoolwork, making my projects with much gusto and every time I have the highest grade, you beamed with pleasure. You taught me to draw and to appreciate art; reviewing my reading comprehension, correcting my pronunciation. I was 10 years old when you introduced Sidney Sheldon in my vocabulary. The Sands of Time, my first novel and I read and reread the life of Megan, Gracella, Lucia and Theresa all over and over again. You instilled in my head the magic of words, the beauty of classic films. I recalled how you woke me up at 12 MN to let me watch the classic Romeo and Juliet. The Montagues in their funny tights. You introduced me to politics and the intricacies of religion, your radical self slowly rubbed on me. You hate rules and you are spoiled, you disliked to be told and to be nagged. You lived your life without sense of responsibility, only good times.
But I won't dwell on the other hateful issues, I will save it for later. For now, I want to stay in the cocoon of the past where there are butterflies and cotton candies, ET and the Sound of Music, of bed time stories and my first bicycle ride. I want to traversed the road where in a brief moment of time I was a happy child, bursting with sunshine and radiance, not the dark and morbid adolescent I turned out to be nor the cynical and sarcastic adult I am today. I want to remember dancing in the rain, of birthday parties and me as the centre of your universe. The golden child where fairy godmothers visited her in her dreams, of ballet classes and the little girl in the pink tutu.
But I won't dwell on the other hateful issues, I will save it for later. For now, I want to stay in the cocoon of the past where there are butterflies and cotton candies, ET and the Sound of Music, of bed time stories and my first bicycle ride. I want to traversed the road where in a brief moment of time I was a happy child, bursting with sunshine and radiance, not the dark and morbid adolescent I turned out to be nor the cynical and sarcastic adult I am today. I want to remember dancing in the rain, of birthday parties and me as the centre of your universe. The golden child where fairy godmothers visited her in her dreams, of ballet classes and the little girl in the pink tutu.
I want to remember the little girl who held court, with friends in pinaflores or the little Catholic child wearing a white satin dress, white veil adoring her head during Flores de Mayo with a basket of bougainvilleas and roses smiling sweetly for photographs on her first communion. I want to see the brown skinned child with a dimple in her left cheek, a toothy smile on her round face. Such innocence such bliss, such magnificence. Where did the years go by? Daddy where did you go wrong and why did you forget to hold my hand again?
