A few days ago, I got into one of the very rare fights with my dad. Arguments between us are unusual. When we do argue, it will possibly be about silly subjects, such as ‘no, that was not his name at all!’ or about me being shy.
That was what had happened this time. I was sent inside the pizzeria to fetch our order, but strangely, I’ve always had a problem with ordering something or talking seriously to strangers. (Joking around with strangers isn’t a problem of mine at all.) Like the time I was about to order tickets for a festival.
I stood there with the money in my hand, considerately pressing myself to the wall – what if I disturb someone who’s next?
‘Will you ask her if the pizza is ready?’ dad asked me.
I was immediately annoyed.
‘They’d go ‘two Vesuvius!’ if it was.’
‘Maybe ours are in the boxes there?’
‘I bet they’re not.’
Oh yeah, and I might as well tell you that dad didn’t want any pizza this day, and that was the reason he wanted me to order and ask for it, because me and my siblings were having the pizza.
I stood for even longer, expecting them to call out the well-known ‘two Vesuvius!’
Eventually, dad asked me to see if it was ready again.
This pissed me off, and I furiously gave my sister the money, said ‘You can do it yourself if there are so many rules’, and left. I waited next to the car. They were soon back.
Enough about the pizza. This blog is not a pizza review.
I sheepishly decided to not speak to dad for the rest of the day. I cursed a few times, we ate, and dad soon came downstairs.
He cracked one of our inside jokes.
I couldn’t help but laugh. I was angry, I was disappointed with myself because of the silly little problem, so why?
Because I love my dad. What would I be without my amazing father?
My dad has been with me all my life, like most of your dads. But not in the way like ‘he’s always been around’, no, my dad has been my idol, my picture of a good person, a great someone to look up to. I’m proud of being his daughter. When asked if he is my father, I will smile and happily reply ‘yes, he is!’ At times when I’m told I remind people of him; either physically or mentally, I can barely swallow my pride. Dad is fantastic. Being the daughter of a fantastic person – woah – how can I put it?
Dad is nearly fifty years old, and I’m nearly fourteen. I’ve never been ashamed of him. I don’t have any problem with him saying hi to my friends – everyone should, shouldn’t they? I don’t have any problem with going to the supermarket with my dad – something others my age would hate. My dad is my friend, simply.
He is very funny, I mentioned our inside jokes, right? Nobody will ever understand how much joy certain words contain to us, but one single word or face expression, can make us crack up laughing.
He is kind, and will always put us kids in first place. If there’s something needed, dad will get it for us. I’m not saying we are really spoilt with lots of extra gifts, ‘cause we are not. That, too, makes dad a good person. I’m glad I’ve been brought up with fair but limited amounts of pocket money. It has given us respect and empathy.
He knows so much, and teaches me all I ask about. I don’t think dad has ever told me ‘I don’t know’. I’m very thankful for growing up with a lot of knowledge, too.
I share most of my beliefs in politics, religion and society with my dad, but I have contemplated them. I’m glad the things I have learned from him showed to be correct in my mind too; who wants to figure out they’ve been tricked for many years?
I am an atheist, like dad, and we’re both anti-fascism. As said, these are still my beliefs after contemplating.
Dad is tolerant. He lets me dress however I want to, speak the way I want to, listen to any music I like, meet any of my friends – things that I know aren’t certainties in all homes. Learning that something is wrong is easier when realizing it yourself, than having someone else telling you and banning you from doing it.
He’ll tell me when I have to be home in the evenings, and such security rules, but I know that it’s all about love. I love my dad, like he loves me, and I will respect it.
If there's anyone I'd like to be like when I'm older, it's dad.
In the beginning of this blog, I mentioned deciding to be angry with dad for the rest of the day.
How could I possibly? No pizza in the world would part me from dad :]
I’ve never had a major fight with him. I could never stop speaking to him. I love him way too much.
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