Walid!

please pretend its 4th November!

Assalamualaikum peeps!



“Should be a lovely day today, isn’t it, Al?” What am I Dad, the weatherman?

What a stupid me. Of course it ought to be a lovely day.


Today’s my Walid’s birthday. He was born on the 4th of November, in a quiet village in Negeri Sembilan, to a pair of teacher and a soldier. Oh, what year? Teehee, I am not going to tell. I’ll let you guess.


Since I was a little girl people keep telling me that my walid looks young. Heck.


Generally speaking I adore my father a lot. Except for the bit where “he looks young.”


When I was in primary school, I had this tendency of leaving my homework or textbook at home. I think everybody did that, didn’t we? So during recess I would use the 20cents leftover from lunch and called home to get ummi to get walid to send the homework to me.


To tell you the truth, I hate doing that, but I had no other option.


Another thing that I hate during school year was the report card day, or whatever they call it. That was the time when parents come to school. Apart from due to the fact that I was a bad student, I detested my father coming over to school because I detested remarks like these:


“Nurul, is that your father?”


“Nurul, your older brother came.” I had no older sibling you fool.


“Nurul, he’s your dad? But so young!” oh shut up.


Oh fcuk. He’s not my brother. Nor my uncle. Nor my mom’s or dad’s younger brother. He’s my dad. Yes, you motherfcuker, he’s young. He looks young. He hails from Neverland. He’s a clan of PeterPan. He’ll never get old. Ha-ha. I made up stories and the young 8-year-olds believe me. You fool.


Go mind your own business. Your dad looks like your grandpa to me.

So that’s why I hated him coming to school. Right from I was in primary till my last day of schooling in 2008. No, not that I was embarrassed of him. I have a handsome, good looking father. I was just too tired of the remarks I’ve been getting about daddy.


I mean, I am his friggin daughter. I am so effing much like him! Of course I get offended when people say that he doesn’t look old enough to be my father.


Look at us. We’re so much alike. We have the same nose and eyebrow.


We love reading. Dad brings books to toilet. I have collections of overdue books from the library in my room.


And English! Did I tell you my Dad doesn’t read Malay daily? Only English. And I am the proverbial English teacher to be. (Is there such thing?)


When I was a little girl I had this little accident with my father. Then, when I was 17, we had another. That’s one of the most unforgettable memory I had with my walid.


And do you know where I got my passion for rock music, football and Formula 1 from?


We used to watch football together when I was home. Dad and I both are avid supporters of Man United. Staying up all night drinking coffee, watching football, talking, how I adore doing that with my walid.


Things changed when I went to college. I used to be the Daddy’s girl, me being the only adorable daughter. Now that I am always away, all that I miss is Ummi. When I call home and it’s walid who pick up the phone, I’ll ask to talk to ummi. Never walid. When he said that she wasn’t around to answer me, I’d say, oh, okay, ang hung out. I don’t really talk with walid anymore.


When I broke up with my ex, I came home and hugged my walid. Over dinner he asked me what happened.


That was the time to change all that. If I were ever to console to my dad, maybe our relationship would be like those days again.


But I didn’t.


Damn.


Last night we went to mamak. Football. I wanted to buy SR cake for his birthday. But he isn’t a fan of SR cakes, and I am broke. So I gave him a treat of some coffee. That’s all. Teehee.


Still. I love you daddy.


Psst: Dad spent his college years in Miri, Sarawak. He speaks Sarawakian like a Sarawakian. I guess that’s why I’m so keen on Sarawak. I’m going there next year. With him. Teehee.