Daddy's Gift

It is every little girl’s dream to step out into that enchanting entrance of shimmering lights, ravishing gowns, stunning flowers, and lingering sophistication, to stand out and to proudly wear the crown of a lady. Yes, that night when she receives 18 roses, holds that 18 candles, slices that 18-row cake, and dances with 18 charming men and especially take that 18^th dance with her father and tells him, “Thank you papa for  the best gift ever.”

If hating one’s own birthday is a major crime, perhaps by now, I’d already be counting letters of the bible in Panama’s death row.

In my 18 years of experience, it has been proven that 9^th of October is just as ordinary as drinking a glass of water. Its nostalgic chilling night, its boring routinal weekday, and the absence of the loved ones due to business was too much to handle for a kid.  However, that October 9, 2010, a regular day for you but for me was “my” debut was incredible. Nothing extravagant, colorful, surprising whatsoever, even my siblings and mother weren’t there. But despite the disappointments, I stood grateful to God because 9^th of October is a gift that only lasts for 24 hours. He made it for me.Until papa accused me of doing something I never did. How can I forget? On my sweet 18^th, papa had upset me, papa made me cry. I slammed the door heavily and left him sitting in the dining area…not knowing of his sick heart condition. That day was the thorn of the 18^th rose, the rotten slice of cake, the darkest 9^th of October.

The next morning mama arrived from Biliran and managed to prepare muron paired with the best coffee in the whole world that only she can make. She hugged me tight and in an instant I seemed to have forgotten the worst yesterday. She kills my fears, she dries my tears, she heals my pain, and she loves my worst. I took a big bite of muron and turned to my father, “Thanks papa for the greatest gift of a lifetime.”