Saturday, June 12, 2010

My dad.

Because of some family issues, I haven't been a very good daughter to my dad.
I don't greet him every morning now.
I don't make coffee for him.
I don't crack lame jokes over dinner and laugh with him.

Instead, I wake up later than him in the mornings.
Instead, I make breakfast for myself.
Instead, I finish dinner as quickly as I can, and retire to my room.


It's between my parents, really.
But it was something which grew onto me involuntarily.


Today, I felt a little sick of maths, so I logged onto Facebook.
A couple of my friends were spazzing out over the World Cup. Curious, I clicked a couple of links and got onto a live streaming site. Cheers of euphoria blasted from my laptop speakers and I was reminded of how I used to watch soccer on TV with my dad when I was young. I had cuddled next to him in his chair, and we watched soccer together, until my mom came in and hollered at me to sleep because it was way past 10PM - my bedtime then.

Feeling slightly detached from my body - or reality, so to speak - I unplugged my laptop and hugged it out of my room, to where my dad was.

He was in front of our desktop computer, checking out random information on Wikipedia.

I'd like to think it was all Singtel's fault.
Their fault for buying over the rights for airing FIFA, their fault for wanting to charge us poor little Starhub viewers an additional $66 to watch the World Cup. I think it was their fault, really, that when I looked at my dad reading up on random information on the net during the World Cup season, an unexplainable wave of sadness hit me.

I placed my laptop on the study table, next to the desktop screen. He looked up at me quizzically, the wrinkles on his face more defined than how I remembered them to be.

"Live streaming," I shuffled the laptop around a little. "You can watch soccer now. It's a little blur, and a little laggy, but it should be okay," I mused.

"Oh."

He smiled at me then, and I felt like I should have bought him that sixty-six dollar football channel instead, not subject him to pixellated (although life-saving) broadcasts.

I smiled back at him, and pulled a chair up beside him.

Then we started watching soccer together.

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