It’s the father’s  birthday. (I figured the mother wasn’t lying when she said she’s 57 years old. It’s consistent with the 11-year difference between the parents’ ages noted in my birth certificate.) Four children and four grandchildren. That’s not to bad for a 68-year-old.

I figured it is a happy birthday this year. The father sounded great on the phone. He sounded happy. And he actually had a chat with me. This morning’s phone is probably the longest phone call I’ve had with the father. The call ran for five minutes with the father offering information even bothering to explain how characters in his updates are related with one another. That’s quite a lot of effort  for the father who usually skimps on words.

He shared that he already had a cake as early as yesterday, that the third sister has cooked pasta for breakfast, and that he’ll be sharing a fine bottle of alcohol with friends this evening. There I was thinking he really had to reach 68 to be more chatty? Then again, that’s progress.

I’m really looking forward to having a longer chat with the father when I go home during the semestral break. I suddenly feel homesick 😐



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