Simple Things

While sitting on my chair, face buried at the screen in front of me, doing reports that’s making my head ache, I took a break. Closed the window and open a new blank page and found myself writing this, what is this, now that’s the question.

I think about the time my father and I used to sit side by side, coffee in hand watching sports—probably a basketball game, no doubt about that.

I can see my old self, spouting expletives marines might get jealous as it is not fit for a lady like me for saying stuff like that.

Who says I act like a lady anyway.

That’s how the way I am, I was, and my father knew that. I’m a hot-headed woman I think I got it from him anyway, the only thing I’ve got, he could’ve give me his height but no, sigh.

I talked trash and cursed a lot, that’s how I used to watch a game. And I remember him saying nothing, as if I do not exist and just enjoy watching the game.

He, sitting in silence and me questioning every bad call the referees were making.

I have trust issues, figures.

My mother and sister, they said me and my father, we talk like aliens, only the two of us knew what we're talking about.

And it’s cool. To me it is. While other fathers and daughters, I don’t know, maybe the usual talk was about suitors and boys, as for us, I didn’t remember, even for once we talked about that. If I try now, I wonder what his reaction would be.

Small, meaningful talks.

From sports.

To music. Music of ‘70s- ‘80s making me wish I was born in his time. Music of today is making me sick, most of it, that is.

To politics.

Religion.

To history. My father, the only man I know who never get bored whenever I talked about old people, old places, old things and odd traditions.

Anything and everything under the sun.

Those small talks, those conversations, suddenly I miss it.

And I wonder if he misses it too. He never said a thing but I think he does.

I missed those piggy-back ride that my older brother used to  give me in the past.

I missed how me and my younger brother used to roam around with our bicycles, and how me and my childhood friends used to play hide and seek, dodge ball and even..wrestling. Yep, I was that kind of girl, the one who never owned a Barbie doll in her childhood days.

Childhood days. With a goofy grin, stain on my shirt, dirt on my face,  a bleeding knee and a nagging mother impatiently waiting for us to go home.

Time flies so fast. A child no more, I am no longer.

 No more stain on my shirt, no more dirt on my face and  no more bleeding knees to sport, just a bleeding heart, perhaps? And where did the goofy grin go, now I wonder.

When did I stop doing the things I love? Seems like a long time ago that even I forgot to remember when.

Like the feel of a book in my hands as I carefully turn the pages with uneven breath and curled up toes anticipating each scenes that one wrong move, I feel like the events might turn to what I do not want to happen. Yep, I’m weird like that. I was.

Like watching anime and reading manga. I missed the smile, the laugh, the tears-yep I cried like a river watching Naruto Shippuden—and now he has a son I suddenly feel old--- the feeling it gives off.

Like doing shopping with my sister. With her, excitedly going from one boutique to next and me silently wishing it will soon be over, for my feet hurts and I’m not really a fan of shopping. Gah. I hate to admit but I also missed it.

Going on a trip with my friends, even those unplanned meet-ups. When did it turn to be so difficult. With different schedules and priorities that needs to be put first.

Carefree and stress-free life, where did it go?

Who take away the word “free”?

Tell me and I’ll kill him.

Because  for once, just one more time, again, I want to be.

 Free.