Everything was as usual, until the end of the mass. It was raining; we didn’t have umbrella. It wasn’t when we left home. The church was so near our place that we only walked to get there. But it was raining. And when it is, even the nearest place appears so far.
I’m glad it did.
After the mass, my father decided that we walked our way home in spite of the raindrops that were starting to make me feel cold. It wasn’t raining that hard, he said. I disagreed. It wasn’t that hard, but it was enough to soak us wet. We decided to hail a tricycle (that was the most practical public vehicle within the vicinity) if we saw one. So I agreed to walk in the rain, thinking that it would end pretty soon as tricycles were easy to find.
My father probably wished for it, and he wished for it real hard, because despite my attempt to stop every tricycle I saw, none dared. My hair was dripping wet; I already felt stupid for agreeing to it. But for some reason, we appeared invisible to the tricycle drivers. Noone stopped.
Since we had a long argument, which normally never lasted for more than a day or two until recently, I never spoke to my father. He arrived home; I didn’t take his hand to make ‘mano’. When he’s with me on the sofa watching our favorite telenovela, I dared not speak. I only spoke if my mom’s with us. This probably made him feel uncomfortable, because he didn’t stay for long. He would go up and do other things instead. He never finished any soap. Because I was there.
My father is the kind of man whom you’d feel intimidated. He is a big man. He also oozes an aura of someone who’s on top. He works to lead people. He’s a detachment commander. Detachment commanders are usually men who had military background, or at least a college graduate. But my father is neither. Yet, he attained what he is right now. He walked his way up, gradually. Despite deficiencies, he was elevated. He proved how tough and capable he really is.
He may be a man a lot feel scared of when at work, but when he goes home, he transforms. He takes off his clothes and reveals his softer side. He becomes my father.
He is not perfect. Despite his attempts, my father has flaws which he cannot just cover. I hate him most of the time. He is sometimes inconsiderate; he wanted to be in control. If he wanted something, he would do anything to get it. Anything. Despite the risks.
But I guess what made my father very special are the little things he does. He listens to my jokes. I can talk to him almost about anything (yeah, including my crushes). He listens when I retell to him what I’ve seen on the cable, my childhood memories, my friends’ love life. He just listens.
We also had long walks. I go with him when he goes to the market to buy something for the fish. After purchasing, I take him to another route entirely different from the one we took to get to the market. A longer route, that is. Not practical? But my father does not complain. We traverse this route, me, doing the talking, and him, listening. He always listens.
I remember one breezy night. My father was watching TV; I was in my room trying to get a sleep at nine o’clock in the evening as I had to be in the office so early the next day. I couldn’t. I went down and asked my father if he wanted an ice cream, his treat, of course. He agreed.
The little things we do with the people we treasure the most are the true source of happiness. After we bought one for each of us, we headed for home. It was again starting to rain. I will never forget that scene where my father and I were eating ice cream while walking on the street, with the rain happily targeting our heads. We probably looked idiots, but we didn’t mind. We didn’t care. We ate our ice cream and walked our way back, chilling. Nothing can replace this memory. I will never forget.
And today, we were again walking, in our good wardrobes, soaking wet, with only his handkerchief on our heads to protect us from the rain. Now I know why he carries two hankies with him every time. We talked, walked slowly, and sipped every moment together. He probably missed it. I did. I missed talking to my father. I almost lost this secure feeling, knowing that my father will always be there for me. But I’ve learned.
And no, not even the rain, can stop us.
