today is rainy again and i finished work at 7 in the morning, with dad half way through his breakfast. i almost forgot how much i liked watching him cut up fruit and put pâté on little pieces of toast whilst his cà phê phin finishes dripping.
it’s like waking up to him scrambling breakfast and packing my lunch each time he visited sydney. he’d take me to school and then we’d walk home at 3pm. one time he let me pick out my very first pyjama set—this beautiful fairy printed pink number—which turned out to be too small because he paid before we remembered that i should try it on and so mum had to exchange it for a dress that actually fit. after that, he’d come back from every business trip with a new destination shirt 2x my size.
i’ve stopped buying him pressed shirts since a few years back because his weight seems to fluctuate as much as his commitment to quit smoking. and now each time we take the dog out and he lights a cigarette, i have the urge to ask him for one too. you could say we settle by splitting a mango when it falls from the tree my grandparents planted, alongside my +1 and his +84 biological clock even when i’m back home.
before going inside to get some sleep, i paused and said “good nighttt” and he just chuckled between chewing “good morning”. and we’re there; somewhere between here and far away.
