Dear Daddy,

Mummy taught me how to write a letter. I was in primary school then. I remember we were to write a letter to our friend asking them how their holiday went. Mummy wrote it on a sheet of paper for me and I proceeded to copy it in my notebook. I can still see her scrawl-like handwriting on the sheet. She started the body of the letter with “I hope everything is going smoothly”. I can never forget because I used that line in almost all of my letters until I completed secondary school.

That line is not essential in this letter, Daddy; I know you are well. I'm supposed to ask you to grant me five wishes but I'm lost. However, I'll try my best to solve this conundrum and weave the words.

Will you attend the parents’ fora you missed while I was in school? I want my classmates to know I wasn't lying when I said I truly had a dad. Mummy usually came around but I had always wondered if you would have showed up instead. It's not as if I missed you, though.

Will you stop yelling on the phone over trivial issues? I know it's just a yell but it disorients me every time and it makes you sound like a villain. Will you grant me this wish and put an end to your yelling spree?

You said you would get me a proper bicycle. Our environment wasn't conducive for a scooter, you said. In case you don't know, I still can't ride a bicycle. I tried learning but I failed miserably. Passersby laughed at me when Aisha taught me how to ride the pedals on our street and I kept squeezing the brakes in fear of falling and breaking my precious bones. It is not too late to learn how to ride a bicycle, Daddy.

I can't remember what your hugs felt like. Whenever I hugged you with my little arms, I thought I felt elated. I thought it was the giddiness that made me smile so widely my large eyes disappeared behind contracted flesh that was once eyelids. Now, I don't know what to think. Was I truly happy to see you or was it a habit I picked from the other kids? Can you help me remember?

The last time I went home, I opened your side of the wardrobe and I was hit by the usual stale smell of unworn clothes. A piece of warm-looking clothing caught my fancy, though. A fawn-coloured hoodie that fits me perfectly when I tried it on – the hem is almost reaching my knees and the armhole seam sits somewhere around my upper arm. Daddy, it would be an honour to own that piece of raiment.

It would be irresponsible of me if this letter exceeds its word limit. On this note, I'll see you the next time we both meet at home. I hope it's sooner than later.

Your grumpy daughter,

Hairat.

#ProwritersChallenge24

#March