9.3 Papa

I can never remember a time he didn't wear his thinning white camiso-de-chino. Whenever I'd think about him, he'd be wearing this white shirt, khaki shorts, and Beachwalk slippers that you can buy in the palengke. He has always been the simplest man I have ever met in my life. Despite being a mayor for more than a decade when I wasn't born yet, he never seemed to live lavishly. I remember him wearing this outfit when I woke up at around 6 in the morning when I was around 6 or 7 years old. I was the only one awake aside from him. He asked me if I wanted to ride his 4x4 Owner Jeep to the farm. I willingly went with him. I never had spent a moment with him alone and I decided that that was the perfect time to get the much needed bonding I craved for. We rode in silence. The wind blowing my hair. We fed chicks. I got bitten by ants. I didn't mind. He introduced me to people that lived near his farm. We went back home at around 7. He made coffee for himself. He asked me if I wanted some. I said I've never tried drinking coffee but I wanted to try. He made a cup for me. He got the loaf of white bread. He offered me some. He told me to dip it in the coffee. It was so good. I haven't dipped my bread in coffee for the longest time but whenever I do, I always think of him.