Today’s post is dedicated to fathers all around the world on their day. It is one of the few dates that we celebrate on the same day both here in Mexico and in the U.S. I especially dedicate this to man that is the reason I am writing right now, my daddy.
When you reach a certain age, or rather, when your parents reach a certain age, you start to realize just how fast life passes you by, and how you just have to seize each day because you just never know what may happen tomorrow. I guess it’s because I don’t live with my parents anymore, that I notice more the way his hair is getting whiter, or that his features have aged, something I don’t think I noticed while living everyday under the same roof. Now, I’m not saying my dad is an old man, because even though he’s eighty, he acts like he’s seventy or less. He’s in good health, has a quick mind and still works from Monday to Friday from 9 to 5 or more. Yet, I worry about him more now than before.
The above makes me think about time passing by and of the many things I still have to share with him. I still have to one day become a published writer, I have to have children so they can call him “abuelo” and he can spoil them rotten, there are many books more we have yet to read and discuss, and there are even more stories that I have yet to write and that he has yet to edit. Yes, my dad is my editor, even though he prefers to read non-fiction, he reads through the steamy romance scenes I like to write. Can my dad be any cooler or what?
There are many things I could tell you about my dad. One of them is that he has given me the world. Literally. He has given me the opportunity to travel to places with different cultures, ways of life, and he has taught me to always give that what is different a chance. Especially regarding food. Much to my adventurous father’s dismay, I am a picky eater, so it is really hard to get me to eat anything that isn’t beef or chicken. And my poor dad despairs every time he asks me to try it and I just wrinkle my face and say no. He complains I get that from my mom, which is kind of true.
My love of books come from him as well. I think he is the only other person related to me that can finish a 500 page book as fast as I. My husband can read one book in five months while I can read five books in that same amount of time. My dad is the same. The only problem, which is one I share sometimes, is that he prefers to read in English rather than in Spanish, so when he finishes the two or three books he bought, he has to wait until he can get his hands on new ones. I have tried to show him the wonders of e-books, but he says a real book can never be replaced by some tablet, that he’ll probably end up swearing at it because he doesn’t know how to use it.
Because my dad is the kind of man that buys a new cell phone, a dvd player, or anything electronic and has me reading the instruction manual so I can later tell him how it all works. However, that also makes me the tech support member of the family. I can’t count the number of angry phone calls I have gotten from my dad because he pressed some button on his cellphone and the screen went blank and it I get yelled at because of it.
Another thing that my dad is, is a very stubborn man. Which he did pass on to me, because if you ask my husband if I am as stubborn as my dad, he’ll just give you a look that says “seriously?” Unfortunately, whenever we are at different ends of an opinion, well, no divine power can make us let go some and meet each other halfway.
My father hates being the center of attention, which is why he hates it when someone announces it is his birthday and everyone congratulates him. Especially when this is done in a restaurant, and you have a group of total strangers sing you happy birthday in Italian, or banging pots and pans. I am the same way. Those who really know me, know better than to tell the waiter it is my birthday because like my father, I hate it. You can tell how we feel by our facial expressions, and during those times, well, they are never friendly or remotely pretending to enjoy the moment. We just can’t disguise when we really hate something, or when we rather be somewhere else but there, having some stranger yell in your ear and scare the hell out of you because he is weirdly excited it is your birthday.
Also, my dad has the weirdest things happen to him, and he is so witty, he can come up with the most bizarre yet brilliant solutions to a determined situation. For instance, the other day, one of his fake teeth broke and since he couldn’t walk around with a gap between his teeth, his solution was to use super glue to put it together. Never mind he could’ve glued his mouth or worse, he was really proud of his solution and he made my day when he told me about it. Or, he uses scotch tape to put together his reading glasses when they break and since he is always looking for his glasses because he is constantly leaving them lying around the house, he has a pair for every room in the house. We continually tell him that he should wear them on a chain but he just makes a face and mumbles some unintelligible words and picks up his living room pair, which actually belong to the bedroom but since he can’t find them, oh well, what can you do?
And last but not least, my dad is the kind of person who is a total dichotomy regarding traveling. In one hand, he likes to plan in advance, and when I say in advance, I mean we used to plan our holiday vacations for 2011 on Christmas eve of 201o. My sister finds that a bit annoying since being a doctor and all, she can hardly plan her life so much in advance. I don’t mind the planning, and drive my husband crazy with it. However, when it comes to the day of the flight, my dad hates arriving two or three hours in advance. That’s the eternal fight between my mom and dad, because he wonders what are we going to do for so long until the plane actually leaves. For someone who likes to plan way ahead, he doesn’t mind arriving at the airport with minutes to spare before the gates close and you can no longer board the plane.
So this is for my dad, and to all dads which I am sure have their own quirks and funny personality traits.
Love you dad.
he is not an old man, even though he’s eighty, but well, n