Boundless Entries

Before he could share an inspirational reel, there was a time when my dad hid handwritten prayer notes in my closet.

Before he could send me a YouTube link of an orchestra, my dad used to buy Yanni concert tapes and we would spend our week night way past school bedtime with eyes full of tears just listening.

Before he could make a shared playlist of our favourite songs, we would drive all the way to downtown to “burn a tape” and drive some more all around town with music blasting like two teenage kids.

Before he could WhatsApp me, I would wait until both our days were over with mental notes of every classroom joke and letting him in on the senior prank preparations.  

Before we each had our own Netflix profiles, we picked out DVDs for hours from the local store and couldn’t get home fast enough to play the latest episode of Lost and Prison Break.  

Before we could steal books online and download them to something they convince us is not exactly an iPad, my dad would drop me off at the bookstore while he did the grocery shopping and would still have to wait for me to pick a book.

Before I could scroll myself to sleep, I picked at my dad’s brain till dawn with questions about everything from love to friendships to religion.

My dad was my Chat GPT, the only answer I trusted with very little prompts of what I was looking for.

He needed no guidance as to what I was hinting at. He read my eyes, where my head sat relative to my shoulders, my shivers and the break in my voice.

He shared his favourite quotes with me from memory. And he could recite a tune even if it took him a whole evening to recall the lyrics.

He would stay up with me before a big test, not without a glass of whiskey and a passion for physics. My favorite tutor, the patience of a saint. 

Dinner with him even on the weekend topped any outing with friends. Home was my choice of outing. He made it the preferred spot for me. 

And now that I think about it I believe that’s why I rarely got myself into trouble. He was my compass and my clarity. 

My dad looked at me like I had the universe inside of me. And because of that, I did and I do. 

He made me a full person. I never needed anyone to “complete” me. I never fought for a sense of belonging. I left easily and fearlessly whenever I needed to. I started over with very little many times. I lived and I live in abundance of light because what didn’t serve me could never drain me. 

My dad manifested with such intention, he became the world. The whole world to me.