daddy's girl

statistics say that daughters are closer to the fathers than they are to the mothers; this, despite more time, more attention, more service, more food, more everything from the mother.
how strange..

i’m part of that statistics. in fact, my growing up years knew just one hero:

DADDY.

he may not have been a great husband, but he was a wonderful father to me.

my relationship with dad was so cool, really.
i ask, he replies.
i wish, he fulfills.
often, i don’t even require, he gives.
what i want, i get.

daddy’s girl. yes, that’s me. pampered to the max.

hard spanking? belt-lashing? i have wondered to this day how that would feel coz i don’t recall having experienced them.
i guess my siblings were either too bad that my naughtiness was overlooked, or i have been so good at hiding my mischief for i succesfully liberated my childhood from castigation.
remnants of the untouchables, that's right!
it's only through mom that i knew about the world of sounds and sights when punishing kids (a.k.a. scolding and being grounded), as i have seen her do it to my brothers and sisters.
and when exercising her vocal chords, anyone in sight is a target. we all get our share of daily litany from her outside of sunday mass!
but even that regular occasion in the household had barely hit me especially with dad around. my father was consistent in shielding me. and i know he’d do that now that i am in pain, if only he’s still around..

well, trust the man to work magic -- while my emotions take a roller coaster ride these days, he sneaks out of heaven to visit his 'iha'.
last night, as i drift in deep slumber, he came to hear my sad story of how a good deed never goes unpunished..

i said i hurt, he said i’m fine..
i said i’m not; he said "just wait".. 

my hero has spoken, so wait i shall.
he must be right, as the conductor said:

"Sometimes the most real things in this world
are the things we can't see."

indeed, a daddy's girl, i remain in time.
as life goes on..