My dad was telling my mum how he felt pain in his chest since this morning. He used the words “like a heart attack”. I guess that description awoke a sense of worry from my subconscious as he laced up his jogging shoes for an evening stroll. I suggested to my mum to accompany my dad on his leisurely walk, but having to wake up early and spend a whole day at work can easily drain the life out of anyone of us. My dad teased her saying that she had already walked the route with him, yesterday.
I was going over to my girlfriend’s later that evening but even as I got ready to leave, I couldn’t help but speculate incredulously whether my dad will make it home safely. I kept a lookout for him as I waited at the traffic light downstairs for the man to turn green. I wondered if I should’ve offered to go with him on his evening stroll, if I should tell my mum to let me know when he got home. For some silly reason, I kept imagining that I’d be called away while I’m with my girlfriend because my dad ran into some mishap. TALK ABOUT SADISM. But before I crossed the road I saw him in the distance, walking, slightly hunched (even though it was his front view) and his posture and strides, weren’t as powerful as I remembered them to be.
That moment reminded me of a couple of lines I read somewhere before, about how as we grow up, we tend to forget our parents are growing older as well. I’m not saying my dad’s elderly and feeble! He can still pack a punch, his choice of words I mean.
I’m just glad to see that he made it home safe and sound.