There is a false belief that in a family, the mother is the one in charge of pampering and spoiling the children, while the father is the one who must discipline, control and be strict with the rules of the house. But in my family it was the opposite. Mum was domineering, inflexible, laconic, distant; dad, on the other hand, was a man who spoiled, affectionate, kind, gentlemanly and even a poet. I have many memories of him, both good and bad, which sometimes come to me when my heart, tired of so much absence, opens up and bits and pieces of stories flow out of it. Dad, I'd like to talk about you

_{My father}

_{My dad and his sisters}

Every weekend was a merry-go-round of events, unlikely or certain, that came to add a splash of colour to our childhood routines. The painter of those rainbows: my father. Every afternoon Dad would leave work and go to the bakery for hot bread. He would arrive with bags of bread, ham, cheese and orange juice, and we would run out to savour those delicacies that were not good because they were expensive, but because they were familiar. Even today, as I walk through the bakeries and the smell of freshly baked bread invades my nostrils, I remember those afternoons in front of the television, watching my favourite cartoons, savouring pieces of bread with ham and cheese.

_{My dad and his grandson, my youngest nephew}

Not to mention that every Sunday, after a week's work, Dad would take us to the beach. At that time we didn't have a car, so dad would grab his backpack, pack some bread and diablito (canned ham), orange juice and some fruit, and we would walk to a beach about an hour away from the house. On the way, dad would tell us stories and we would take turns riding on his shoulders. When we got to San Luis, as the beach is called, dad would let us play and make sand castles, and we would swim on the shore. On the way back, spoilt by the sea and the sun, dad would carry us like sacks of potatoes on his shoulders, full of sand as if we were mermaids.

_{Me travelling}

But if there is one thing that I remember with real pleasure and that has inspired me, it is my father's ability to create or plan a trip at any time. It was not necessary to have accommodation or a lot of money, Dad would take the car, we would get in and leave very early in the morning and return in the evening. The excuse could be as simple as going to buy the strawberries and cream they sell in Caripe, a town 4 hours away from my city, or going to visit my mother's family in a town called Triste, 3 hours away. Any trip in the car could be an unimaginable adventure.

_{Me travelling}

Travelling was our father's opportunity to teach us some things. For example, we once visited a village where there was a popular festival. There were games, music, food and lots of people. I was a cocky and arrogant teenager. In the middle of the party, a very humble boy asked me to dance and I flatly rejected him in front of everyone. My father, with his characteristic chivalry, whispered in my ear:

_Nancy, if you didn't dance with that boy and rejected him in front of everyone, you won't be able to dance with anyone else because you might provoke a fight. People in the villages can feel that a rejection is an affront. That day I stood on a street corner wanting to dance and regretting that I had been so rude.

_{Me travelling}

One day, however, we went on a trip to my father's friends' house and they kindly offered us food, but the food was not to my liking. Accustomed to the fact that I could eat whatever I wanted at home, I refused to eat what they offered me and my father, saddened, told his friends that I couldn't eat because I had a toothache. That excuse left me without lunch and dinner. The next day I devoured breakfast like crazy and learned my lesson.

_{Me travelling}

I must say that after I graduated and got a job, I started to travel all over Venezuela and in one way or another I did what my father did with us: I enjoyed every adventure, even if I only had one loaf of bread in my pocket. So if I had enough to eat in the best restaurants in the area, fine, perfect; but if I didn't have money, I didn't give myself a hard time. I simply visited the popular markets, ordered the cheapest dishes and smiled at the people. Every day off from work I invested in time for myself, to see new landscapes, to de-stress, like my dad did every Sunday with us.

_{Me travelling}

One day, I was grown up and we went to a family party. My father was already ill and although he couldn't drink beer, he liked me to drink in his presence:

_That's how you drink beer: with gusto! -He would say as I put my glass to my mouth. That day I danced, I ate, I laughed, I joked and my father watched me smiling. At the end of the party, when we were in the van, my father said in front of everyone:

_I like the way Nancy is. That's how she enjoys life: she eats, drinks, dances like a princess. She is the one who most resembles me," he said proudly, and I, beyond my father's faults, thought of all his virtues: a cheerful person, a good friend, an excellent person, and most especially, a man who lived intensely, 100 percent. I remember that day clearly because his words made me very happy.

_{My family}

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_{This is my participation this week in my friend @ericvancewalton initiative: Memory Monday. The favourite memory I have of my father. If you want to participate, here is the invitation for you to join. Greetings}

_{All images are from my personal gallery and the text is my own, translated with Deepl}

Until next time, friends