#helping dad

The sun had begun its journey to the west and I had just finished my supper. While I was going through my social feeds, depressed of not having anything for desserts; my dad came home. It was an unusual time for his arrival because have I never seen him come home that early. But his face explained it all. It was pale and seemed as of in distress. I realised that he was having a bad headache (which he usually gets) even before he spoke a single word. After a quality conversation between us, he wearily went upstairs. I didn’t follow him. I didn’t have to. For I knew that all he needed was a peaceful sleep. Evening began to dawn. And I was occupied with some of my work which were due to the following day. A low shriek came from above, calling my name. And I attended as quickly as possible. My dad was awake and he, in his sleepy notes stumbled into words but somehow managed to tell me that he was hungry. I don’t know why, but the way he requested food reminded me of “Oliver asks for more.” He wasn’t demanding nor ordering. But it was a request I couldn’t say “no”, to. I went downstairs and straight to the kitchen, constantly reminding myself that he asked for some biscuits with margarine and jam. Just to find out that we’re almost out of the exact biscuits. I could find about two proper ones and a few other broken pieces. So I started my work. I took two biscuits and spread a layer of margarine first, and then a layer of strawberry jam. I was careful enough to use a bit more jam than the usual amount without making it look impossible to eat for my dad. (He is careful with his sugar intake.) And then continued the same with some of the broken pieces of biscuits. I placed them nicely on a snack-dish (because presentation concerns me) and took them upstairs. He was well awake by the time. In fact, he was is a call. His conversation ended just as I entered the room and he greeted me with a welcoming smile. I sat beside him and handed over the biscuits. He looked at me like a small child being given his favourite candy. Just before his first bite did he tell me that I had applied a little bit more of jam but I pretended as if it never occurred to me and persuaded him to have a bite saying, “You’re all weak now. You need more energy and this isn’t something you’ll get to have everyday so eat.” He had a bite and the sweetness ran across his face. His next few bites were mouthful. He ate like a little child which was seemingly cute and I enjoyed watching every single bit of it. While finishing the second biscuit, he opened his mouth to speak, and told me they were delicious; something his eyes already told me. And then he took me back to his childhood, telling me how he really liked to eat such biscuits everyday, but didn’t have the money to pay. Looking him eat, I thought to myself “how hungry he had been”. The snack-dish was empty and the last piece of biscuit was being enjoyed to its maximum. After he swallowed it, I stood up to come down for I had other work waiting for me. But before I turned to leave, my dad looked at me with his childish eyes reflecting the unimaginable amount of happiness just those biscuits gave him, and said to me “they were the most delicious ones I’ve had in a long time.” The pale and weary face which I saw in the afternoon was delightful with happiness running all across it.