Last night, as I had my daily conversation with Papa, I told him I've come a long way. Indeed, I am no longer the traumatised 7-year-old struggling living in the shadows of overprotective adults and memories of an unfamiliar father figure. I am now this brave, independent 23-year-old taking the world head on. I often wonder how differently I would turn out to be if Papa was around. Pretty sure he'd still be holding my hand when we cross the roads, he'd still be cooking fried rice in the middle of the night and leaving the unwashed dishes in the sink till morning, he'd still be falling asleep on the sofa while watching soccer (I'm not even sure he actually watches ); above all, he would be the man to lead the family. In retrospect, Papa never failed his duties as a father. If we had spent more time together, I believe he would be the father I asked for and more. This household would be different. We would be different. I would be different. Here ...