This is one of my favorite short assignments from my creative writing class last semester. It is about the relationship between my dad and I, how different we are yet almost similar in a way. A constant reminder that for some reason parents are always right and want the best for you.
He hated winter, I hate still summer. If snowfall arrives, he gets annoyed because he can’t ride his bike to work. When it reaches 34 degrees at home, he yells at me for not having the heater on, claiming that I will get sick. I feel the most comfort when its cold. Being covered in blankets all day long is something I live for.
He is always right. I’m always wrong. When I asked for help with my math homework he would show me one way, “that’s the wrong way” I would tell him. He would respond with the “I’m older, I know more” tactic. He is a numbers person so I would always take his word for it. Considering he worked the cash register at a restaurant that had an old cashier with no adding mechanism, just add in his head, press and release. How does he do it? Oh, because he is older.
He wanted my hair short. I wanted my hair long. During my elementary school years, he would shave me bald. Berating me that I look like a girl with my long hair and bangs that reach my eyebrows.
The long hair covered my ears, I liked it because of that. I hated how my big head made my ears look tiny.
He loves to work. I work cause I have to. His passion to work and learn more everyday makes him great. At 13, he told me to work at the restaurant he manages to see how hard it is to make money. I didn’t care about his lesson. I was just tired of being made fun for wearing the same hoodie everyday in middle school.
Working also allows me to spend my money carelessly. He likes to save his hard earned money. Sitting back, watching his green paper stack. I like to spend my money on overpriced items because it brings me temporary joy. When I bought a pair of sneakers for $250 he teased me, telling me that my feet look like they are covered by two gigantic yachts. Or that they looked like two hovercrafts.
He is a serious person. I like to be a jokester. When I’m around him a feel like I have to have a dead face of no emotion. I can’t make a joke without him judging me telling me that my jokes aren’t funny.Maybe I’m not funny just stupid. I say the things I say to make light to any dark situation.
He is the type of person to get things done right away. I am a huge procrastinator. My major flaw ruins me any time I’m trying to have a good time. When I had to do my first college paper I remember telling my dad about it. He would constantly tell me to get it over with. I would answer, “It isn’t due till next week, I’m fine”. Next week came and I’m stressing to get this paper done. I stayed up until three in the morning. He woke up me up before heading to work, in his loud fearsome voice he said, “Hope you had your eight hours of sleep”. Then shutting my door with a little too much power. Waking me up from my short slumber.
He often tries to forget about the past and think more of the what the future holds. I can’t forget about the past. The past still lingers in my mind. All the times that you left me their all alone, when I needed you the most. But I didn’t need you, and you know that. You know that I became someone great without your help and advice. Now that we reunited, you always talk about how the one phone call I made to you changed your life. How you were sleeping on the freezing floor of your friends apartment and once you heard my voice you felt sudden warmth. Now you don’t mind the winter because it reminds you of the time you became my father again.