Dad.

I will be honest, I am really not good at this whole missing people thing. But with you and mum, it’s frustratingly easy.

Being a rolling stone, in theory, seems to fit me quite perfectly. Well actually, our nuclear family in general. But you and mum, have always noted how easy it seems for me to roll out and throw up them deuces.

Also I’m aware that you probably do not know what this phrase means. Do not google it. Feel free to call for clarification.

Anywho, contrary to what my tearless, apathetic airport goodbyes may indicate I have always been acutely aware of the prices being paid. The most obvious one being away from the people you love more often than not. Contrary to normal children, when I was younger, I did this without a wince. I was so caught up in knowing what was out there, to see if it sweeter than home, that home and all the feelings that came with it kept getting lost under random junk mail.

And even whenever I came across it accidentally, mid-roll across the room of another random country, my heart reacted so strongly against it that I wouldn’t find it for weeks after this. Sometimes, when I felt it, I would call you.

But usually not, because missing people and time zones never work.

When I did, I would act weird. I would you too many questions about local gossip, what you had for dinner and whether you and mum were working out. Sometimes I would close my eyes and listen, but not really to what you were saying. I would never actually say it directly because I know then you would feel it too.

But I want you to know its always there.

Unfortunately dad of all the people in my life, this takes away from my time with you. Not just fathers day, but your birthday, and any free time I actually have to spend with you seem to be diminishing every year. Summer is the peak time for my wanderlust, and you.

And you, in the summertime, are always the fondest you I can remember. Just “closing your eyes” for a bit on the couch in the afternoons, busy at some sort of yard work by the crack of dawn. We didn’t talk as much then as we do now, but it was a different kind of closeness. You shoveling dirt into a wheelbarrow and me taking it to the other side of the house. It was real.

Every summer, it gets harder. The summer after high school, India played tricks on me because I barely kept in touch till you and mum arrived. Mexico was our first attempt at Skyping, but I never did it enough. Haiti did not give me the time to think about much, just do. The second time around it was the worst I had ever felt it. Being away from you, mum, Prashanth on Christmas. Then entering the new year alone. But I was comforted to know the three of you were together somewhere.

 I still remember the best Christmas of my life was in a trailer in the middle of the outback.  We decided to a trip across Australia, from home to the west coast,  and I woke up Christmas morning to the most glorious plastic guitar. It had 5 whole buttons, each a different color, and was also the best gift ever. The four of us in the middle of Australia in a trailer.

 Now in Kigali, I have been rolling around for a few years now and know that the world is an amazing place. But also a really scary place, that fills me with doubt. When this happens, I feel small again and I think about you. And mum. and I know that all the evil in the world cannot touch an inch of your love.

Happy fathers day dad.  I hope your adventure west is a beautiful one.