I opened my inbox and read his message, “How was your class this morning?” I checked the name again and read the message twice. Beside the open envelope was his registered name in my phone: Papa. I stared at the screen as I was thinking of what to reply. But I couldn’t think of any. And I really didn’t know how to reply to a question like that from a person like him. I put my cell phone on the bed and went to the bathroom, thinking that maybe I could come up with a reply after a bath.
It was a strange message from a person so strange to me. My father’s message was like an admiration of a tough professor for his student’s work. For the student, her professor’s words were more than that. It was a bizarre treasure that would be kept in her mind and heart for at least, forever. I could ignore that message and a hundred more sweet messages from someone like my boyfriend, but not a message from my father. He was a man of few words so it was not like him to ask questions like that. Seemingly out of nowhere, a father’s message was saved in my inbox.
