A sudden recollection

It suddenly came to the idle mind (thanks to the abundance of festive grubs) that the first buds of aspiration to write didn't occur just recently. In fact, it was some fifteen years ago when that spark of fire to scribble, to compose, to write was ignited.

Each morning while waiting for the bus to arrive, I would be greeted without fail with the image of a father, carrying his handicapped young daughter over his shoulder, on his way to the market. His daughter was probably about 8 to 10 years old. As they passed the busy bus-stop, he must be terribly conscious of the unseen emotional flutter their atypical presence had stirred which led to either gazes being swiftly averted or curious stares fixated unbashedly at them. For I sensed, rather than saw, his already straightened back became ever so slightly stiffer. The feeling was no doubt an unnerving and awkward one, so I thought then. Of course he had the choice to leave his daughter to her own devices in the flat while he could go about his marketing in peace and without any public scrutiny. Instead, the knowledge that it would do his little girl good to be out and about, had possibly propelled him to disregard society's often unwanted and embarrassing pity for the invalids.

This powerful picture of a doting father whose love knew no bounds etched deeply into the mind of a then hoonie who didn't quite have many cares in the world. The impact on me was frightfully great that I felt documenting it in the form of a dairy was in order. I could hardly contain my enthusiasm.

I believe I merely did a few entries on my thoughts of the pair and the ego in me was already itching for some sorts of commendation. Boldly, I showed the unpolished and clumsy writings to the ex. Upon finishing reading, he returned the dairy to me without a word. I looked at him expectantly and waited. Oddly, there was no response from him. A slow realization gradually transgressed. It was clear that he wasn't going to share with me his take on my maiden attempt. I must have sucked awfully. The wounded vanity kept me from pressing him for further blows.

The earnest aspiration was nipped so completely in the bud by his wordless reservations that I never again inked any word in the pages of that dairy.

We moved shortly after and I never see the father and daughter again.

And the dairy was strangely nowhere to be found.