Dad's Day

Father's Day has come and gone and I didn't get my dad a present. I'm on the other side of the world where they have this celebration earlier on in the year, so I forgot, totally. And I feel terrible because I went to a lot of effort for Mother's Day, painting a canvas that ended up consuming more time than needed because in the end it still looked like a preschooler had puked up their snack of bread sticks and hummus over the face of the white fabric.

On happy occasions such as birthdays and anniversaries, we sit around the bustling dinner table, sharing a positive memory/thought of the poor individual that has to sit through an arduous hour of embarrassment. I'll be honest, I actually miss those family times so much! Maybe not so much when it came to be my birthday and you'd hear things like "she's nice, sometimes" "she makes us dinner...?" "I like hearing her sing, even though she always gets the words mixed up."

I  wasn't present Sunday to share my happy memory of dad, so I'm giving it now.

I was 16. It had been a rubbish day. PMS had kicked in and I was being a snotty Prima Donna. Making dinner the knife slipped and sliced my finger, I forgot to line the baking tray for the quiche. Walking in the back door holding a heavy load of washing, I stubbed my toe and dropped the basket on both feet. And to top it all off, the quiche had somehow turned to soup. I mean, how does that even happen?! After hurling profanities at the stupid oven for ruining the dinner, I sank to the floor and just cried. Life is pointless, always has been and always will be as long as periods dominate the female body...

Dad is calling me in to the lounge. I know what this means, a scolding. He's going to raise his voice and tell me to fix my attitude and not to swear in front of the other kids. I slump in to the room, my hands covering my puffy red face. His eyebrows are raised. He's annoyed. He beckons me closer, I shuffle my feet reluctantly forward. He's still motioning my forward, then he pats the arm rest of his chair. I sit down and he brings an arm around my waist.  

what's wrong?  

EVERYTHING! My life sucks!

Nothing else was said. I don't know how long we sat there, but it was time enough for my heart to stop pounding and my seething anger to subside.
I've never been a fan of snuggling, not until I got my first boyfriend anyway. But those moments of silence between me and dad was special. Because he knew exactly what I needed.

So Happy Father's Day Da!!!