ridin in my dad's car

sometimes when i'm in a car,
whether it's driving down a long winding road,
or being stuck in a traffic jam that doesn't seem to be easing...
the little girl in me hops out of the shell she's in,
and slides on to the back seat.
I take in a deep breath, inhaling the imaginary smell of my dad's leather car seat.
By now, my body has sunken in, suddenly i'm small again,
small enough to be enveloped by the car seat.
my dad and i, we rarely speak, on the way to school.
it's 7am, and i'm probably still half asleep...
and dad, daddy's probably thinking of work
and how many more cars he has to sell, in order to pay next month's school fees.

now we're on the way home from an interstate road trip.
it's half past 12 in the wee hours of the morning.
dad likes to travel home at midnight, that way
not only does he beat traffic, he beats the groggy traffic police chasing after him
but no matter how fast he drives, i manage to fall deep asleep
not once doubting that my dad will bring us home safely...

many years later, i sought refuge in another man's car
and as we held hands while he steers the wheel with the other free hand
i was certain i had found love, my racing heart running miles ahead of me
that night dad found out and chased that man away

it broke my heart, but little did i know, it too had broken dad's
his little princess, all grown up and snatched away from him...

now i get to ride in my daddy's car only once a year.
me with my luggage, looking out for a familiar BMW
i don't sleep on the way home anymore, anxious to see, to hear, to soak in
everything that i miss about this place....

how i wish to be riding in the backseat of your car, daddy
watching as the dawn breaks, painting the sky red, and purple, and orange...
knowing that as long as i'm in your car, i am safe...i'll be alright...


happy father's day, daddy.