How does it feel to have someone that will fight for you? Be there for you and protect you at all cost? My Dad did that for me.
The night was young, and moonlight shone into the living room, making its entry into the dark. The lights were turned off, except for the TV. The grey old TV was sitting on a prominent shelf; next to it was a flower vase with an artificial purple hibiscus flower.
There I was 8 meters away from the TV, sitting on the floor to get a good view, as my favorite cartoon was being played. I observed, looking at how the Power Rangers fought their way out of their enemies, as they displayed some Kung Fu skills. I carefully memorized them, ready to practice them in my room.
Just as my imagination traveled through time, ignoring my surroundings and everyone in it.
"Jimmy… " my Dad yelled.
No response from me. Then he walked in my direction and slowly lifted me. "Early to bed, Early to rise, boy." He placed me on his left shoulder, then slowly bent, stretching his right hand to reach the TV power button to turn it off.
We walked up the stairs in the direction of my room. He tickled my belly button, and that made me laugh out loud. I pushed the door of my room, leaving it open, as we walked into the room, into the brightness of the moonlight.
He smiled at me and laid me on my bed, and then he sat on the stool next to the bed lamp as he brought out a storybook.
"Jimmy, do you want to hear a story?" He chuckled.
"Yes, Dad. But will there be action in the story? Just like the Power Rangers."
"Are you sure you want me to read you an action story?"
"Yes, Dad." I smiled at him with curiosity.
"Alright, my boy."
Then he opened the book, while I was curious about what the story would be about. When he was about to read the story title, a loud noise was made from the kitchen. My dad closed the book immediately and waited to confirm if it would repeat itself. And it did. I guess that was a confirmation that something was wrong. Some people have broken into our house.
He carried me out of bed carefully to not make any noise that would draw their attention.
"Jimmy, stay calm. I'll take you to a room. There you'll be safe."
"Dad, what about you?" I asked with a pale voice.
"I'll be fine. Some rodents in the house need to be flushed out." He smiled and rubbed his palm on my head.
He made that situation friendly, but I knew what he would do because my Dad is a Captain in the US Marine. A soldier.
The noise in the kitchen was persistent, breaking objects and footsteps stamping on them. They were looking for something. I thought to myself.
"Jimmy, get inside and don't open the door until you hear my voice. Okay."
The room had a little bulb on. But it was dim. It was filled with different types of guns. These should be Dad's weapon room.
"Jimmy, get down." He ordered as he stretched his hands to pick a gun. Then he said, " Lock the door now."
Fifteen minutes passed, and Dad wasn't back. The gunshots were making a loud noise. The walls were vibrating as screams were heard. I was petrified. I could listen to everything but dare not open the door.
"Is my dad alive? Is he hurt? Why us?" These were questions pondering in my little brain. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door.
"Jimmy, unlock the door. It's Dad. It's okay."
I slowly peeped through the keyhole and saw my Dad bleeding from his arm; without hesitation, I opened the door and hugged my dad.
"Ouch! Oh, Jimmy, everything is fine." He smiled, then lifted me and took me to my room.