Friday, 22 February, 2013

Daddy's girl

When I was in Junior School, my dad would insist on dropping me. My school was just a km away and the bus picked me up but he loved our little ritual.

He taught me how to change a car tire so that I would never be stranded. When I totalled his car in my early driving years, he didn't even tell me off. All he did was ask me to go for a drive in the evening, so that I wouldn't be scared to.

When I got married, he locked himself in a room for hours and refused to come out. I remember sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to Bali and my biggest concern was that he had almost gone into depression.

He's 62 years old and still works 14 hour days. And if I ever hint that I am craving for gol gappas when he's just come back from work, he'll jump up and won't even wait to be asked twice.

Everyone thinks their daddy is the best. I know the flaws and strengths of mine. He makes me so mad sometimes that I want to scream. Yet the one thing you can't take away from the man is that he tries his level best. Every day. In everything he does. He does the best he can. Selflessly. Untiringly. Every day.

posted from Bloggeroid

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