Learned from his own father’s bad example, and now, he’s made sure, that he won’t, make his own young daughter feel as helpless as he had done growing up, translated…
As I’d, Wrapped My Arms Around My Dad’s Sturdy Waist, the Wind and the Rain Became, Less Fierce; at That Precise Moment, He’d Become, My Majesty, Although, Without the Extravagant Castle, No Delicacies for Me to Savor, I’m Willing, to Be Governed by Him………
What, No Cars! Let’s Go
That year on Father’s Day, all of us went to the restaurant to celebrate. As we crossed the roads, my father took up my hand, and I was shaken to the core, back when I was younger, he’d rode his Coyote 125, with two of us, young children, headed to the oceanside highways for a ride, that father who was, once so young, how’d he, grow so old so soon? He was nearly completely deaf in one ear, hard-of-hearing in the other, thin as a stick figure.
As I was younger and was learning to cross the roads, my dad would always take my hand, and as we walked along, he’d taught me, “Look to the left, and then, to the right, and when you’re certain, that there’s, no car, then, pace yourself forward.” This time, my father subconsciously took my hand again, but, he’d, remained, silent.
I’d said to him lightly, “Dad, there’s no car! Let’s go.”
My dad was the eldest son in his family, and I’d heard, that he didn’t talk, until he was, almost five years old, he was almost sent off by my grandmother to someone else to raise, he only had an elementary school education, and started attending the night division of the middle school classes, and he’d graduated third of his class. I was on the competitive track back in middle school, I did pretty well in school, but I’d hated to remember the text by rote memorization, once, for my geography exams, I’d scored only a little over seventy, my mother took my test and started nagging me over it, and my dad added, “Where did your knowledge go? Your father went to work in the daytime, and gone to school in the nighttime, I’d made a ninety-five on my geography exams, just study the text a bit more, how hard can it be?”, my mother returned, “the students in the makeup schools all took out their texts and copied on the exams, and you gloat about scoring a ninety-five!”
Dad was just like that, really insensitive, not gotten a high enough level of education, didn’t make that much money either, the friends and relatives don’t say it to his face, but I knew, that they all, looked down on us as a family.
And yet, every year around the major holidays, my dad shouldered up the paint jobs of the house all on his own, and never complained. And, whatever needed fixing at home ordinarily, grandma would call on dad to help, and the rest of my uncles, they’d never, lifted a finger, all of these, I’d watched, in silence, and, I’d even started, guessing, that my father was, given to my grandmother to raise when he was a young child.
The Majesty Can Make Mistakes, and Grows Old Too
On the year of my high school entrance exams, dad was addicted to gambling the lotto, the originally scarce money we’d had in our home, became like the water, evaporated from the tarp road outside the house. We had less and less money by the day, and more and more arguments, at the moment, I was, facing my very FIRST major battle in my life, I was, stressed out, psychologically, AND physically.
I’d worked so hard, to get into my first-choice of school, wanted to make you feel so proud, so you can, carry yourselves with your heads held high in front of others, and, at this key moment, dad, you’d, squandered away your wages, on those, useless games of numbers………
During that time, I’d feared most that he’d, walked into my room, “Can you lend me a hundred dollars? I ran out of money for gas.” I’d, minced my lips together each and every single time, pulled out a hundred dollar bill again and again from my desk drawers, gave it to him, with my tears, streaming down my cheeks. “I’d worked so hard, just so people won’t look down on us, and yet, I’d felt, ashamed, of what you are doing.” My thoughts tangled up inside of me like a ball of yarn, and, I couldn’t, sort through them, through my teenage years of hardship.
controlled by the machines here, illustration from online…
Oh how I’d missed, riding behind my father on his Coyote 125, headed to the beaches to make sand castles, playing baseball, visiting my maternal grandmother in Chihshan, harvesting lychee, having barbecues, and eating the banana ice treats.
I’d recalled, how it was pouring after school, my dad rode his Coyote 125 to school to pick me up, he’d put the raincoat on me, told me to get behind him, he’d shielded me from the rain that was, pouring down. I’d wrapped my arms around my father’s waist, and all of a sudden, the raging rains didn’t, seem so scary anymore; at that very moment, he was my king, although without an extravagant castle, without the delicious foods, I was willing, to be his charge.
But, the king can make mistakes, and will age too. I’d become, someone else’s father now, the king to my baby girl, every time I’d taken her small hands to cross the roads, I’d also tell her, “as you cross, look to the left, then, to the right, and when you’re sure, that no cars coming, move swiftly forward.” And, after each and every time I’d told her, I’d felt, shaken up inside, my thoughts started rolling, and, a montage of broken frames flashed through my mind.
So, this, is what your own father left you with, shame, because he’d, gotten addicted to gambling, and, made you feel ashamed in front of your families, and now, as you’d become, a father yourself, you’d, VOWED to never make your child feel like you had growing up, and that’s made you, a WAY better man than your father was to you and your family.