Daddy's little girl

My dad and I had a strange relationship while I was growing up.

Oh, we had our fights. I was rebellious, and he was determined to make sure I turned out all right. He was adamant about my 9PM curfew, and I was always trying to test it. He disapproved of my guy friends, and I hated how he would give every single guy who called my house the third degree - "Who is this? What do you want? Why are you calling my daughter? Don't you know it's rude to call during dinnertime? Well, maybe some people eat dinner at 8PM..."

One time, he even asked, "Are you one of those gangster boys? You have spiked hair and baggy jeans right?"

I could have died. I hated how he was so protective. He was so gruff and stern. A typical Asian father, if you will. He never expressed his emotions - unless it was how disappointed he was in my grades. Nothing I could do was good enough. And he never told me he loved me.

And then I moved to Chicago to start undergrad. My dad made the trip out to orientation week with me, and I fully appreciated it. I needed someone to help me bunk my bed, help me buy my books, and set up my home away from home.

He was scheduled to fly back to California on my first day of class. I remember coming back from my very first Chem 171 class - wide-eyed and apprehensive (how in the world was the entire freshman class that smart??), and then I realized my dad was sitting at my desk. And then I realized he was teary-eyed.

My daddy had come to say goodbye before he left. And in that instant, I knew he loved me. Knew he always had. I started crying too, and we were both a mess, as I told him how scared I was, and he told me that he had faith I could accomplish anything.

Six hours later, my mom called to let me know that my dad had arrived back in California safely. "Hey kiddo, your daddy is still crying," she said, as she laughed and mocked him in the background.

My parents are the absolute best. I've always been closer to my mother, but no matter what happens, I'll always be my Daddy's little girl.

I have a very strong memory of my family driving back from Las Vegas. My dad and I were the only ones who were awake in the car. I was, maybe five years old. Anyhow, the moon was pretty low that night, and I nonsensically told my dad that I wanted it. "More than a pony?" he asked. "YEAH! MORE THAN A PONY!!!" I replied ecstatically.

And so we drove and drove and drove (in the wrong direction, mind you), trying to catch the moon. I finally fell asleep and my mom must have woken up and chided my father to get us the heck home, because when I woke up, I was in my own bed again.

Out of all the girls in the world, only I can say that my daddy honestly will do anything to bring me the stars and the moon.


Happy Father's Day, Daddy. I love you.