My father and I were always very close. We’re still close but when I was younger we were inseparable. He was my hero, my knight, and shining armor, and the king to my princess palace. He made my world as frictionless as possible. He slew the dragons that tried to disrupt my peace and got rid of anyone trying to invade our kingdom, a world that he grew for only us two.
Early mornings with my dad were always fun. He was my alarm clock. A knock on the door that wasn’t very hard. His deep voice screeching and scatting attempting to sing a note. His singing was anything but good. All I could hear was the growls and pops of his vocal cords. In the midst of getting ready for school, I would catch a glimpse of his short chunky body shuffling through the kitchen, lost in his own world. Those were the peculiar things I witnessed every morning but it always made me smile.
Along with the lively early mornings, our car rides were something special to me. Love and the melodies of Lupe Fiasco filled the atmosphere and the lyrics “If you are what you say you are a superstar and have no fear” blasted through the speakers. The bass would be so loud that the vibration sometimes blurred out the words but that didn’t matter. We knew the words and we yelled them. He made me believe I was a superstar and I can be fearless. There was no beast in sight. And days when I came home, back to the princess palace, he would always be asleep. His snores were like lion roars and gritty like gravel. I always became worried when they would sometimes go in and out like a static radio losing its signal. I’d stop and stare at his belly to see if it would inflate like a balloon, then I was sure he was all right. When he awakened, we would watch the best movies together. He laid out on his back, with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed, stretched out on the long part of the couch. I used to crawl and squeeze to lay right next to him. He didn’t mind, we would just adjust and move until we fit like puzzle pieces. The warmth of his body made me feel safe. He was my armor.
And when he tagged along to help chaperone my school field trips, my peers would all express how mean and intimidating he looks. But when I look at him that’s not at all what I see. I can’t picture someone who allowed me to paint their nails orange and put pretty barrettes in their hair while they were sleeping as mean and intimidating. He’s soft and delicate with me. He offers to paint my nails when the shops are closed, clean my room before I get home, kills all the bugs that frighten me, and lets me sleep in his bed when I say I had a bad dream even though I sometimes would make it up. I truly cherish those moments from my childhood with my dad. As I get older those moments don’t stop but they evolve. We continue to make new memories and he continues to set the bar high for any man that comes in my life. I am forever grateful to have this relationship with my dad, so Happy fathers day to him and all the other fathers and father figures out in the world.
The Reflection Room 