Between 9 and 18

My dad is sent to far regions of the country, sometimes out of the country for work. It takes days. The wait can be heartbreaking. I miss him when he's not here sleeping at night. I cry sometimes when he leaves but I am consoled when he tells me he'll bring home something special for me.

I accompany him when he prepares his clothes and stuffs them all along with his other necessities in a bulky luggage. I watch him and listen attentively in case he forgot something and asks me to fetch it for him somewhere around the house. I'll do it gleefully. Everytime he packs, It is like an episode of "Finders Keepers" (A vintage Nickelodeon show) as he sends me off to find items as he bellows a countdown.

One time, when he's done packing and set the luggage aside I waited until he left the room. I took it and placed a banana in between shirts. I thought he might get hungry because he'll away for days and Mommy can't cook for him.

After the banana, I sneaked sandwhiches on his following trips and sometimes, I slid my own crafty "I Love You Daddy" card and notes.

He is pleased and I get a tight hug and kiss. I smile, shout, jump triamphantly because I know I made his day right.

That was 17 years ago, I remember.

It's different now. Nothing seems to be familiar in our family except the house. I've lived here for as long as I can remember. I miss growing up.

When I was 9, I can't wait to be 18. Because as I've seen it on TV and fairytales, parties are grand and everyone attends wearing gowns. Each guest trying to outstand another. I yearned for that day, the dance and the kiss.

And now, 18 has gone 5 years ago. I think about playing Mario on a family computer. I've memorized the keys that I can play it with eyes shut. I can ride a bike without my hands controlling it. I watch Beauty and the Beast and know all lines from start to end. I miss the days when everything is just play.

As I grew older, pleasing my dad became a hard task. It was not like "Finders Keepers" anymore. Then, I gave up on it. I don't exactly remember when but I think it was the time when I met my first bf.

Bit by bit, we grew apart and hardly spoke to one another. Because when we talk, we usually end up arguing --so we rather not talk or I rather not speak with him. Arguements are brutal in this family.

Eventually, I grew numb. Growing up is hard and unforgivingly painful.

But now that I'm older, I know that it is not late to patch things up with my dad. He's still young and I am much mature to understand the things I didn't understand between the ages 9 and 18.