5:00 p.m.’s are everyday to anyone as it is to me, but not today…
what and why port moresby’s cold june wind brought breeze of nostalgia, i do not know… but my 5th hour this afternoon brought me back to those days when my 1700 hours are as special as december 25th.
my late father seldom made it home at 5:00 p.m. i hang-out with friends a lot later and show up (if at all) far more intoxicated than he’d had. the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree they say…who can tell? hence, his showing-up on time is always a special occasion—for me it’s an answered prayer. and i am not being lyrical in my saying so.
papa IS the best cook in the world. although a maid was always around to prepare dinner, he made sure that he does all the cooking every time he’s home by 5:00… making such days so special. why? because that makes my breakfast, lunch & supper… all a work of magic… his magic!
i never grew out of these 5:00 o’clock’s: he’ll park the car at the gate, rush in to the house straight to their room, change his work clothes into a pair of shorts and a tee and his warmest smile… and us siblings await in the car, thrilled for that special trip to the market. trip that makes my day perfect no matter what happened to the rest of it. and a trip that i would trade a day of my life just to have another 5:00 o’clock with papa…
papa always reminded us of two things every time we take these trips: (1) a good cook does his own shopping, & (2) only lazy people can’t cook.
this is not my fathers’ day blog.
06 June 2006