64, like that Beatles song.

64, like that Beatles song.

Dad hated heights. I was never more aware of this fact than on one summer day in Baguio, when I was about eleven. We were in Mines View Park, overlooking what seemed to be the entire cosmos. Brazen tourists were taking jump shots by the edge of the observation deck, but Dad was as white as a sheet. “Let’s stay here”, he said, finding comfort in a lone bench situated at the safest spot of the lookout point. I ignored him. There was something about those Cordillera mountains that made me want to go to the very edge, lean forward, and yell, “I AM INVINCIBLE.”

I was not about to be lame and sit on a bench with my middle-aged father who wore white socks with his loafers.

I don’t know who took this picture, but every time I see it, I remember the urgency of his tug on my ugly-ass windbreaker. I remember the look on his eyes that said: “My reckless, impulsive little girl, I will not let you fall.”

Happy birthday.

This entry was published on Wednesday, June 27, 2012 at 10:12 am and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

2 thoughts on “64, like that Beatles song.

  1. I love your vignettes, especially the ones about your dad ❤ Happy birthday to your dad!

  2. Thanks gutsy 🙂

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