Central Park always gave calm to my daunting heart. It made me have this contentedness and satisfaction of existence. It was a brief experience that I definitely needed to clear my head and regulate my thoughts.

It had been five long years, years filled with sorrow, longing, dread, loneliness, and emptiness. I was dead at some point, devoid of any feelings and left with a void that constantly craved to be filled. The sad memories I had of these long years were even more than the happy ones.

That is sad, isn't it?

But still, I managed to keep on, to will myself to live, and move at the pace I had set for myself. The only thing I knew that kept me going was coming to the park. Seeing kids playing and having fun to their heart's content; creating the memories that would last forever in their minds was fulfilling for me.

Today was no exception. It was the weekend and as was the norm, I took my kid out with me to the Central Park. She always bubbled with excitement these times and would often share some of her fun filled memories on the drive home. I was happy that at least, she was growing fond of the place.

I sighed and looked up at the pale blue sky. It was clear and the sun shone brightly down on the earth, almost scorching and was intermittently calmed by the cool, crisp breeze. It was summer and so, the heat was at it's peak.

I fanned my neck with the collar of my shirt and turned my attention to a very bright and cheerful Lisie who was playing with some of her school friends, toys in hand and a stick sweet in the other. They were being supervised by some of the kid's parents who would often involve in their games and

make fun of them.

I was totally fine sitting some distance away on a sturdy wooden bench and watching the scene before me, taking into retrospect the events of the past and how I had been able to cope with it. At some point, I got so lost in my thoughts and didn't notice the time fly by.

There was something my class teacher, Glee, always said. 'Everyone has their own story'. I knew that from my school experiences. Most times when my mom and I would walk to the Central theme park, I would see lots of kids with both parents having the time of their lives.

Holding a balloon and being dragged by my mom as we walked along the streets, I would turn and stare at the beautiful scenery. Kids laughing, parents taking pictures of them, smiles flashing, camera rolling, excitement noticeable. Even when we were past the park and walking to where my mom had parked her car, I would still keep staring, refusing to let go of the joy I felt seeing kids like me having both parents to cater for them.

I often wondered why mine wasn't the same. Why would my dad go to heaven and leave me down here all alone with just mom? Didn't he care for me? Didn't he love me? Didn't he want me? A tear would slide down from the corner of my eyes occasionally and I would stifle the sobs that threatened to escape from my body. What went through my head as we were crossing the street sidewalk was, if I would ever get to see him again.

If I would ever get to feel his arms around me and comfort me, if I would ever be able to brag to the kids in my class that my dad was coming to pick me up, if I would ever get to be relieved of this despair that quaked my heart.

My friends always talked about their parents; the various things their dad would do for them and their moms, the way their dads would always be with them on family nights or take them to the theme park, the way their dads would garner them to family outings or the way their dad would also hover around them like an egg's nest. My mom did all those quite alright and I couldn't ever be more grateful.

But I just wanted something more. I know that was probably being so selfish of me but wouldn't the work-load be less on my mom at least if my dad had been around, she would have fared better, her social life would have improved and those creases that were always on my mom's forehead would disappear...

I wanted to be strong for my mom, to not have her worry about my whereabouts every minute, to have her relaxed whenever it was the holidays when bad things always happened to kids my age.

My mom finally noticed that I kept on looking back and she tugged my hand and hastened her footsteps, muttering what I couldn't quite decipher.

I knew I was being so emotional about my dad and that made me overlook so many things my mom did for me. I wanted to appreciate her more, to be able to show her the love I had for her, but all I kept on doing was asking if my dad would ever come back.

Maybe one day, he would or maybe he wouldn't but still, I was going to keep that thought stashed away in my mind.