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My dad's gym
Being away from home is tough, folks. Most of us here, if not all, consider our houses precious and we think of them as the best place ever. I know, at least for me that’s the case, and my favorite spot back home is my father’s gym. It isn’t really big nor crowded with machines but the memories I keep from there are a many and they are very special to me. I remember how on every early Saturday and Sunday mornings you could listen to my father’s barefeet jumping on the stave floors, on and on as he practiced his tae kwon do kicks, he’s always been fond of the oriental culture. Slowly, you would stop listening to the pitter-patter and then tibetan-budhist type of music would make its entrance. First smoothly, but throughout the songs would become really intense and energetic that you honestly couldn’t help shaking your body to the beat. Every once in a while, I mean the times I would get hype enough to leave my bed, I would join him. My father would teach me some easy moves, and together we would end the nice session meditating. Sitted on the tibetan little zen meditation chair or the zafu, with our backs straight and our hands together lying on our lap, dad would lead and begin to spout the canticles,I would try to follow. I still remember the songs, even though I’m not able to pronounce the words correctly, I know the catch. I remember that looking up front, hanging all over a white wall, there were my dad’s tae kwon do medals. Two golden ones, a silver one and a bronze one, along a few diplomas. On the other side you would have his black ribbons and pictures from the competitions he attended. Growing up like this made me think of my father as a hero, someone who could protect me from everything and everyone. It was like having my own Jackie Chan and I didn’t know someone cooler than my old man, I was just way too proud and I’d even invite my friends to show off. Naturally, as the little girls we were, martial arts weren’t enough to keep me and my friends entertained for too long. The good thing is, we could always get into the hot tub and pretend we were on a spa. You know, girlier stuff. Oh, lastly I’d like to say that the gym is not a room inside the actual house, it’s kind of isolated, right in front of my mother’s garden, so on sleep overs there was no fear that someone could listen to our gossip. Our 11year-old important issues remain secret to this day.
