Loose

    For years I have dreamed of living in America. My childhood was filled with dreams and promises. Year after year the fiery passion inside of me burned even hotter. Never have I imagined that this childhood dream of mine would become true right before my very eyes. The joy overwhelmed my innocent heart as I found myself imagining my new life. Day after day, I would spend hours staring at the blank wooden wall of my humble home as I visualize my future in this Promised Land called America.
   
    Moving to a totally different place means leaving friends behind. Friends that I have grown to love; friends that I have played and I have grown up with. All the childhood fun that I have enjoyed for so long will now be left behind, only to be revisited by the occasional reminiscing. Yet I did not care, for I knew that I will make new friends once I start my new life.
   
    All these wishful thinking kept me from thinking about one of the most important people in my life: my own father. I never thought about how it would be like without him, about how he would live on his own considering his health condition. This piercing dilemma left me sleepless for several nights, wondering which path I should take in the fork that life has presented to me. Should I give up my dreams and stay with my father, or should I sacrifice his company for the sake of a brighter future? The obvious choice would be the latter, but for someone who values emotional attachments dearly I have a very tough decision to make.
   
    “Daughter, I want you to choose what your heart tells you. I will be happy with whatever you choose and I will support you all the way,” my father once said to me. I was sitting alone in the garden, looking aimlessly through the clouds and the heavens beyond. My mind was preoccupied with the very same question that has been haunting me for days. Somehow my father was able to see through my eyes and through my tormented thoughts. It must have been some kind of a father-daughter telepathy that allowed him to read through me.
   
    “Daddy…” was all I was able to say. I was speechless; astounded by the fact that he was able to tell what has been bothering me. I looked at my father’s face and I saw tears welling in his eyes, ready to drop any moment he loses control of them. It must be very hard for a parent to let his own child go. Fourteen years of hard work and effort spent to raise a child, now going to the bin of deeds that are about to be set aside and forgotten. Fourteen years of tears and blood, now going to be deemed useless and wasted. Yet I knew from the look of his eyes that he is willing to let me go for my brighter future. It must be really painful for him, but I knew he was willing. I just knew he was.