Hi Dad.

Photo courtesy of https://bityl.co/CtHG

It was fathers day this past Sunday and I’ll start by telling you I adore my dad. I hate to use regular words but, he’s really cool and even if he wasn’t my dad, I don’t think I’d feel different.

My father's history is one I find interesting, but that’s a story for another day. My story of my dad starts the day I was born. I was born on a Monday morning and my dad had gone to work. Legend has it that he dashed into the hospital and jumped over 3 beds to get to me. There’s a picture of my dad in a blue suit holding a few hours old me — pale and probably terrified, smiling from ear to ear. My dad wrote a letter to me on my first birthday cause he wasn’t around. I don’t remember the content but I know it details the love, admiration, and hopes a father can have for his child.

That said, you must know that my father is no saint. Sporadic tempers, half-assed apologies, and silent treatment, this is also one of the most turbulent relationships I’ve had in my young life. Who gives their child the silent treatment for a year? I think this situation was as weird for him as it was for me and after a year of responding with nods and hmm’s, he took me shopping and we were good. I hate shopping but I understood. He wanted it to end.

This is exactly why I like my dad, my dad doesn’t have gimmicks in him. He doesn’t pretend to know stuff, he’s a weirdo, he’s full of himself, he talks way too much, he’s quite dramatic and definitely mischievous, he doesn’t always make the best decisions with money, he’s a book collector but not much a reader, he gets angry and yells the roof off, he gives everything to his work, he loves his kinsmen and is the peacemaker, my dad is straight-talking, knows when to act like a coward and when to bite, my dad has little tolerance for deliberate ignorance.

I wonder about all the ways my dad has grown since he had me. The thoughts he had looking at this helpless human puddle, what went into my first love letter, and what he thinks of me now, finding my way on my own and not calling him as much as he’d like, sorry dad. I’ve learned very quickly to be okay with failing because I watch my dad fail. I’ve learned that I have nothing figured out but I can make the best of any situation but moving one step at a step. I really like being my father's daughter, hopefully, it gets better the rest of the way.



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Ebube J. Molokwu

Social experiment; documenting my experiences as a product designer, business enthusiast and all round curious human.