Baby Wants to See the Fish

I see the long cradle that could rock from side to side. Sitting up in it, I couldn’t fall asleep. I kept asking to see the fish.  I could only say “fish” and point.  I stretched my arms out into my father’s safe embrace.  We rode in the car. It was beautiful, blackness and stars during sleepy time. Just a few closed shops blanketed by night.  “Look, no fish.  All closed.” my father said. I remember being satisfied. I fall asleep, comforted to be near the place where the fish lived.  I would see them tomorrow, when the sun came out.

When I got the call that he was gone, I became permanently submerged. How could I still be standing and not struck down. Still be breathing and not shattered into a million pieces.

The past is a wonderful place I visit in my dreams.  I see Papa there.  My small arms wound tightly around his neck, but this time I want to keep him safe.

About bookjunkie

Blogging about life in Singapore helps me survive the mid-life crisis
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