Yet another beautiful day is coming to an end. The sun has been unapologetically harsh all through the day but now it seems to be trying hard to calm itself down with great effort. I am here at the park; taking a stroll with the person I love the most, My Dad!
This has been a routine in the evenings for a while now. I hold his hand, talk about anything and everything that comes to my mind and he pays attention to whatever silly thing I have got to share. Just like any other four year old, I notice everything that happens around me, each and every little thing excites me and arouses curiosity in me. I see that a lot of mothers play with their kids at the park, a lot of them drop them at school and many others host wonderful birthday parties at home. I have no qualms as my dad does all of this beautifully and effortlessly, with a little more perfection compared to my peers' mothers. I notice that he doesn't get the appreciation that he deserves. Instead, he is sympathized by everyone - his colleagues, my teachers, neighbours and my friends' parents, especially mothers. At the same time, I have never seen any of my friends' dads do such things.
Our sweet little home is filled with a lot of pictures. The walls in the tiny living room are cramped with photo frames - both big and small. I can proudly say that I occupy most of the space on the wall. Dad being a skilled photographer has not forgotten to capture the blessed moments with an unbeatable degree of perfection. Right after my birth until the last school day function, his camera eyes have managed to capture them all. Just above dad's work table, there is a reasonably big, frameless picture of dad with a pretty woman. This is probably the best picture of the lot, undoubtedly my favourite. Dad is well dressed and flaunts a gentle smile. She is dressed in a white gown and her face is partially covered with a netted veil. Her smile is charming and perfect in every sense. Her silky hair is put up in a perfect bun with a few smooth curls left loose on one side. All the princesses in the stories that my dad tells at bedtime, look like her.
Dad says that the pretty woman in the picture is the one who brought me into this world. Yes, she is My Mom! I always wonder why she is not living with us. Dad tells me, "She is God's favourite. When you were six months old, God really missed her and decided to call her. And He did, without seeking anybody's permission, not even hers. He made sure that she was given the most precious gift ever, before taking her away. Yes Jamie, you are God's gift."
It is strange to learn that nobody understands my dad. Perhaps I am too young to come to terms with the fact that the world I live in is not as rosy as I think it is. People often advise him to find love and move on in life at least for the sake of his child. But he never falls for such generous pieces of advice. It is often annoying and I wonder why people don't think from my side. My little heart breaks because he is mine... only mine! But I know that his world revolves around me. I'd rather say that I mean the world to him.
The next couple of minutes we walk admiring the beauty of nature. The birds are hurrying to their nests, eagerly waiting to be with their loved ones. The sun is visibly tired after a long and stressful day. As we walk from the park towards the river, Dad asks me, "What do you want to be when you grow up? " Without a blink, I answer, "I want to be like you." With a puzzled smile, he asks, "Oh! You want to be an Engineer?"
"No, I want to be a Super dad like you."
My dad... is my Superhero!