All day I have been wondering whether I have any incomplete work that I need to finish. Even though I don’t have anything to do I still feel like I’m missing something. The weather is great and today went off pretty well. Perhaps I ate more than I should have but when do I not? I have never been particularly fond of Sundays. Every Sunday I feel like I am missing something, the missing link in my weekend. But I can’t remember anything I might not have done. I check my to-do lists feeling that odd sense of suspicion on my list-making skills and my memory.
Next week is going to be a busy one, I’ll have to dive into it tomorrow so I want to savour the few hours that I have left. I’ve cooked quite a bit this past week and today will be the final showdown. I am not looking forward to the next couple of weeks because it’s going to get messy in more ways than one. But as of yet, I don’t feel a sense of dread or anything. I know I’ll get through it. Netflix is a boon because it keeps me away from all of this thinking that my mind loves to do.
For some reason I really enjoyed this weekend, it was a very productive and heart-warming Saturday at work, then groceries with my Mum and a lovely match night with my father during the Argentina-Iceland face-off. One of my favourite cousins paid me a visit and I enjoyed that thoroughly. So, all in all, I have had a good time. Yet, there’s a sense of partial fulfillment. Maybe there is something I’m missing but until I remember it I’m going to listen to music and watch videos.
I have slowly made a marked improvement on many fronts and now as July comes closer I am starting to think about what else my gap year will entail. What’s going to happen after the fellowship? What am I going to do? Where am I going to go? It’s starting to feel like I’m nearing a new type of void. Time really flies.
Today is Father’s Day, and I couldn’t spend it with my Dad the way I wanted to. The number of times I have mentioned him in my blog, I feel like this blog is mostly about my experiences because of him. We’ve never really celebrated Father’s Day in our family or Mother’s Day for that matter because we always take our parents for granted. We remember because the newspaper reminds us. Along the same lines, my parents never celebrate Daughter’s Day. I guess that’s fair.
My Dad and I have a very weird relationship, it’s emotional but distant. He’s always been my partner in crime. I’ve been the typical Daddy’s girl, hiding behind him when my mother scolded me, playing with him every weekend, only listening to him and no one else and considering him the only person who has the right to hear my secrets. At the same time, we don’t talk 24 by 7, sometimes we don’t talk regularly for weeks but we know what we mean to each other.
As his birthday comes closer, my Dad still remains my hero even when I have started taking care of him rather than him taking care of me. He will always remain invincible. I am no longer the puny little girl who stared up in amazement asking him to carry me because I couldn’t keep up with his long legs. He’s still the person who jumped into a swimming pool to save me from drowning, caught me when I fainted for the first time and came to every Badminton tournament no matter how busy he was. I used to compare his biceps to mine as a little girl and he’d pretend like he was extremely impressed and say mine were better than Arnold Schwarzenegger’s. He’s also the man who let me replay moves in chess because he really wanted me to win. Of course, he also thinks he’s funny but he’s not.
I’ve been very lucky to have parents who give me the freedom to be me. I can swear in front of them, I can talk about everything from the craziest to the most embarrassing moments and they have never judged me. They are not very talkative but at the same time they’ve been there through everything, and have even allowed me to lay blame on them for many of my mistakes. My family doesn’t celebrate all these titles but that doesn’t mean we don’t think about each other.
I still can’t put a finger on what I am missing though. Sundays always feel like a drag, like you’re procrastinating. It’s because through the week we’re in a hurry. It’s like inertia. Since I’m not celebrating Father’s Day I might as well watch more Netflix, what is my life?