“You are your father’s daughter.”
She remembers how her mother used to say that to her, to spit those words to her as if pronouncing a curse, as if being her father’s daughter is a curse. Maybe it is.
–she spilled milk on her new Sunday dress.
“You’re so clumsy, you cant do anything right! Just like your father. You really are your father’s daughter.”
–she failed at her Math.
“You’re so stupid, you inherited that empty brain of yours from your father.
–every time she failed.
–every time she made a mess of things.
“You are your father’s daughter” is what she hears from her mother.
And so now as her mother lies on the bed – bed-ridden for years now – asking why she has her suitcase in her hands, those scenes, those words from her childhood is what she remembers.
“My father left you when you needed him the most and so will I”.
Tears fill up her eyes.
“I am my father’s daughter remember?
Shiela Mae Milla is a 4th year BS in Economics student at the University of Southeastern Philippines.