Then, repeat


The thing about having your dad work far away from you (a.k.a. he only gets to stay with us for only 4 months and the rest, he’s at work; he’s a seaman) is that you think you’re already used to it but, when you think about it, you’re not.

Since I’ve lived with this kind of system ever since I was a kid, it somehow felt normal to me. We’d talk to our dad through the phone (and sometimes, letters, when they were still widely used), pick him up from the airport, spend time with him, and then send him back again after his stay’s over. At first, there’s that certain awkwardness, the kind where you can’t be that comfortable at your own house because you feel that there’s a guest staying at your house but then it gets better as the days pass.

I don’t know. Even though I know this is good for our family, I sometimes wish things were different. Strange. I can’t even remember when we last had Christmas together, as a complete family.


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