Beyond the warm nest

Daddy always says: “Stop floating around!” whenever we have a rough conversation over the topic of what I want to do with my life these days. He managed to persuade me to apply for a position in a state agency, and he feels so content about it. I was so mad at him yesterday, about how he changed, how he got so old and against “the new”. But on a second thought, I think he has given me enough chances to make a difference. I just failed him.

He used to be very supportive when I was at the age of promising. I applied for the most unrealistic thing in the world: Astro-physics at National University of Singparore. Dad was always there, doing everything he could to support my dreams. Every single dream of mine.

Remember the books he had to travel across Hanoi to buy you?

Remember the telescope that now gets dusted up in a corner of your room?

Remember how he saved up the dollars to prepare for your trip?


He totally has the right to tell you to settle down, ’cause to him, you’re no longer young enough to be allowed to take a crazy ride. To him, after all, you’re a woman. Fragile as a woman. Marginalized as a woman. And the world he sees? Brutal as battlefields. Ruthless as an African safari.

But dad, I want to see beyond the warm nest you think I should start building. Just like a friend of mine said something that really stuck in my head for the whole day: What if that warm nest of yours is built “upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand”?

You are on your own at the battlefield and in the safari now, T.


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