When I was 3 my dad would come home on his breaks
He would bring me to the playground
push me on the swing for a good hour or more
and sitting on the slide we would eat local bananas
I felt like a princess
When I was 3, my dad is my hero,
He isn’t the kind of hero who wears a cape or a blue underwear
but he sure is super
with his blue navy sweater
dark blue jeans
and blue crocs.
He is my dad.
When I was age 7, he started going out
for whatever reasons he could come up with
and talk about money and during dinner
he would eat at a separate table away from us.
He wasn’t the hero that fed me local bananas during our play time,
he was someone else I didn’t know.
When I was 13, a man was still in my house,
he slept on the same bed as my mom
wearing a white tank-top and gray pants,
while my mom was yelling at me
and slammed the door across my face
“GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM.”
I was only 13
when that old man took my savings from my bank account
that was supposed to be used for my future college tuition
and a family vacation back at home to the Philippines.
He wasn’t known to me.
When I was 18, it was the year when he finally came back,
with his blue navy sweater,
dark blue and jeans
and this time green crocs.
He told me he’ll feed me local bananas,
he will have more time with me
and he told me that he loved me
and he loved mom too
My hero is here but really, my dad came back.
Finally, I’m a princess all over again.