Friday, June 24, 2005

Washerwoman's hands

How often do we say Thank you?
Since our house helper is out of town this past few days, I took on her role of washing the dishes. Not really a big deal since I'm used to doing it during my medschool years. Being in pad of my own somehow taught me the pleasure and pain of independence.
Now, I'm back to living with my parents. Back to the comfort zone.
Funny though, after eating our meal, my dad offered to do the dishes. Maybe he thought his princess didn't know how. It's so sweet of him to put my comfort ahead of his. I smiled and was grateful for this tiny gesture of love. Thanks daddy, but I couldn't let you do this task for me.
I love my dad. And even now that I've grown old, I know that when he looks at me...he sees the face of his little girl.

Lately, I find myself crying in solitude. Never a night passes without a tear. What's going to happen when I leave? Who will take care of him? Who will give him his vitamins? Who will care to ask if he wanted a snack? No matter how small, it still concerns me. I just hope that he won't slip even in the slightest of depression. He's such a softy when it comes to me. I pray that God will grant him the strength to overcome the longing and emptyness.

All this fuss...over my water-wrinkled hands.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

i worry so much about my dad too! he's left alone at home and he only has his aging parents to keep him company. kaya i'm also in a hurry to have a baby para he has a reason to stay with me for long. he offered to leave home and help us with the little one. i'm just waiting for that moment.

dionne said...

aww... one of the hardest part of migration, leaving loved ones behind... coping when you get there is another... i hope things turn out well for you in papua new guinea. just holler if you need comfort... we'll be here. =)