I looked up and thought about it, and I was lying down when the phone rang. Unknown number. -Hello? – Yes, how is your father’s daughter? “Daddy’s daughter”. This word surprised me. I haven’t heard that word since I woke up.
I closed my eyes to the archives of my heart, saying, “Who is there to call me so casually yet intimately?” It is said that my father was very happy when I first found my son in the womb.
But the long journey across the country and the girls, who can destroy the happiness of others for their own momentary pleasure, broke the fragile yet precious bond between the two girls and their evil words.
So when a person called me was born into this universe, my mother’s father welcomed me with open arms. A child born in the house, a suddenly found treasure, the child of his only daughter, who was born on the hearth, was raised for three years without putting it down.
My father used to get up at night, leave the shelter in the morning, and come home in a hurry in the evening, saying, “My daughter is going to be a good person.”
It is said that the gray father did not come back the day he left his little girl, who was not even a toddler, and went hunting with his gun.
But soon the little girl stood on the threshold of the house and called “Daddy”, but no one hugged and kissed her as “Daddy’s daughter”. How many times did you break your bad grandmother’s heart by crying “Daddy”, how many times did you hide your tears…
Later, the man who married my mother and raised me with beautiful siblings could not see me through the eyes of a father. She looked away when they were playing riotously, and when a horse came from afar, she ran after him, but she did not let him go, even though he gave her the whip, calling her “father’s daughter”.
When I walked to the threshold of the ten-year school with a bag full of books and notebooks with a red ribbon on my back, I used to see the children who were being led by their father to go home.
Among such chains of memories, the image of a person who would call me father did not come to mind. I put the phone to my ear and said – Ah, good, you – Oh, I’m Bayaraa’s father, my daughter, how is her job…
The universe is generous enough to give a person something missing. Yes, this man is my father, the father of my beloved. If the god who took away my gray father is listening to me now, please give my only father on earth a long life… Now I am a “daddy’s girl”.
