Day 362
One day when I was in kindergarten, my dad forgot to pick me up.
I can't remember everything that happened since I was only three, but I do recall seeing all my classmates leave our boat-shaped jungle gym and wave goodbye as they ran toward their nannies. As time wore on, I was the only kid left in the playground.
My dad found me sitting idly on a swing.
He rushed to my side and apologized profusely. He asked me if I was injured or starving and - this is what he tells me - in response, I flashed him the biggest smile, told him I was fine, and skipped over to where the car was as if I didn't have to wait an eternity for him to arrive.
My dad loves telling me this story whenever he feels sentimental and stuff. He takes a lot of little things to heart, and I think he considers that moment as one of his parental "failures."
A while ago, my mom gave him a call and asked him to buy her some cake. He was really tired because he had to drive to several places to see patients and stuff, so he asked me to drive him over to the cake place. I hardly ever talk to my parents during the week because we're always so busy and whenever we're home, we're all just too tired due to school and work... So those 20 minutes spent chatting with my dad in the car were really precious.
I'm turning twenty next month and since that day back in kindergarten, my dad and I have gone through a lot more mishaps and speed bumps that didn't exactly end with me flashing him a smile. But whenever we argue and don't see eye to eye, I try to look back on that empty playground, the lone little girl on the swing, and the man running toward her, looking like his entire world was crashing down.
