It was all an illusion really. 4 years ago, when I was 11, August 26. My dad had gathered some blankets while my mother got the popcorn. My dog, Fifi was running wild in the house. After they settled on the couch, Mom chose a movie. I didn't watch it though, although I was there for the popcorn!
I thought the movie they watched was dumb and no meaning in the life of films. But what mattered was that they were happy. They were enjoying each other's company instead of fighting on why dad has been seen with some lady who happens to be his personal therapist. When the movie was over, I went to my room. My mom said goodnight, probably because she thought I was going to bed. My dad went outside, probably because he was going to smoke again. My mom watched as my dad left, and looked at me with a sad, why-is-he-doing-this face. He didn't listen to our warnings. Mom was so upset. So was I, but if he didn't listen and ended up in the hospital, it'd be his own fault, so I continued to my room, dragging my feet on the tiled flooring. My mom looked heart broken, that I was just accepting it. If Dad doesn't care for himself, why should I? Its not like he's my top priority. He's just my Dad. My parent. Sometimes my buddy, although its not often.