Is it a Memory if You're Still Living it?



They say a dad is girl's first love. If he fucks her up, he has fucked up every member of the male species that will come into her life after him. Mine didn’t. Mine’s a good dad. In fact, this post is about this man. My earliest memories of my dad were of him narrating snow white stories to me. They were not exactly what the books said, he added his own words and plot twists a lot. But I can tell you for a fact there was nothing I looked forward to more than the stories. Other times, he would tell me of ogres who lured young girls by imitating familiar voices and handouts and then eating them up. Considering the state of the world, I think he knew the exact kind of data he was feeding into my head. I would never get into a stranger's car or take gifts from stranger, because, you know, ogres.
When I was 7, I remember he bought me my first storybook. It was called Mr.Todi from those New Progressive series. It took almost a month to complete. It was about a hibernating toad who lived on a farm or something. I treasured it more than anything. Well, not more than that stuffed panda he got for me that Christmas. And after that, more books came.  And more after that. He doesn’t buy them anymore. Not for himself and definitely not for me. Then I transferred schools. To an academy, where there was an actual library. And from there, my love for stories and words grew. With every book I put down, I wanted another. I don’t read as much these days, because life. But I squeeze in as much as I can. On the mat to town, on that everlasting KCB queue, sometimes before bed. If the story is good, I will forego everything to finish it up.
The other day, he brought Jeff Koinange's book and asked if I still read. I was elated. He thinks I do it as a hobby, as a leisure activity. He hasn’t got the slightest idea that he gave me the best gift a father could ever give. A bond. An escape path. A gateway to a whole other universe. And I am eternally grateful because I don’t know if there are many girls who can say the same.


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