Our Last Summer Together

The days of summer in the year of 2003 felt different in ways I can’t explain. The innocence and the love were pure in the purest way possible. It was also the second last summer that I had spent with my father when he was alive. I could trade a hundred summers to live that one summertime all over again or maybe just over and over again. I can’t really be someone who could speak of a million childhood memories with their fathers. I only own a few and even that with no entirety but only glimpses. From those couple of memories, I have a really sweet memory with my father. A memory that I will always cherish.

Back in my hometown, Pakistan, my father was a brilliant professor. He had his students all lined up after school to get private tutoring from him. He was hired my parents for their children so that they could excel in their exams and studies in general. He was smart and really clever. He was famous among the entire school for being the kind of professor that will give you an explanation of an extremely complex concept in a way one could never forget. He really understood the assignment. He was a busy man. He had a lot of passion for his professional life, but he loved his family just as much or actually much more than anything else in this world.

He loved all of his kids, but I was his favorite child. I was the child he dreamed of having. He always wanted to have a girl and when he got one, he made sure to spoil me. I had become the most mischievous child and all of that credit goes to my dad.

The summers were brutal in Pakistan. The temperature would go over 40 degrees (Celsius) sometimes. On a hot summer day before he left for work, I ran to him with my little steps, and he carried me in his arms. It was the summertime, and I was craving some Faluda, it is a Pakistani dessert with noodles and ice cream combined together. I still remember that I never liked the noodles in it. I used to despise them. All I ever wanted was the ice cream. The same tradition continues today. I despise the noodles in it. I told him to bring it with him on his way back home. “Anything for my little fairy”, He said while putting me down and getting his scooter keys.

The entire day I waited for his arrival. I didn’t play much either. I wanted to eat what I was craving for, and the wait couldn’t be more torturous. I remember my father used to come home really late as he had to give a couple of his students’ private tuition lessons at their homes. He used to come home at midnight. As the night fell, I got more and more excited. The time was about to come when I would gulp on my favorite dessert. I jumped as I heard his scooter approaching. I ran and opened the door and as he came inside, he picked me up in his arms. I asked him with this rush of excitement that where is my dessert. His eyes were wide, and he shook his head in disappointment. I didn’t need an explanation for his gesture. HE FORGOT!!

I jumped down from his arms and went inside my room. “You promised her”, said my mother. I heard the door shut. I came outside and he was not there. I asked my mom and she said he went out to bring you the dessert. I was happy and waiting again. Now when I look back, I see how much of an evil brat I was. He was tired and then went to get me the dessert in the middle of the night. The things you do for your little ones. He came back but not alone this time. He brought me Faluda and I couldn’t be happier. My mom unpacked it and poured it out in a big bowl for my brothers and I to eat together. Just when we were about to start. The power went out and it was pitch black. My mother told us to eat it anyway as the ice cream would melt and it wouldn’t be the same. We started to eat. Now I was very young, but my brothers were a little older than me, so they were eating faster than I was and when the power came on, all of the ice cream was gone. My brothers ate it and I had nothing to eat but the noodles I despised. I again went to my room angrily like the little brat I was. Honestly, for a toddler, that was a big trauma. My father came after me and tried to make my mood better. He gave me an open offer.

“I am giving you an open offer. I’ll give you whatever you want and then you’ll fix your mood and become my little fairy”, He said in a childish voice. I turned to him and told him to give me money for the dessert but not the exact price of the dessert. I told him that I want the price tripled. He agreed and gave me the money while laughing his way out. He told my mom that I played well. “She made me go and bring the dessert than she ate a little but not enough and now she took money from me too. She knows how it's done”, my father said playfully. Now that I look back, I actually tricked them good.

Summers are always amazing, but the summer of 2003 would always stay in the depths of my heart.