It’s true what they say, ‘you never see a good thing till it’s taken away from you’, I thought as I lay in bed.

All my life I had been complaining on how nagging my mom was, but ever since she’d been hospitalized I had come to realise what important role she played in my life. If only I could get a chance to tell her how much I love her, because I doubt she knows, I thought to myself as I sat alone at home.

I felt so guilty that I started singing.

“If tomorrow never comes,
Would she know how much I loved her?
Did I try in every way
To show her everyday
That she’s my only mom…?”

As I was singing to myself looking at her pictures, my phone rang. It was my dad. I mean George; since I was forbidden to call him dad.

I didn’t want to talk to him. He made it perfectly clear I was not good enough to be called his daughter.

He called non-stop so I finally picked up. “What do you want, George?”

“Look Mihloti, n’wana nga, my daughter, I’m sorry about how I spoke to you,”

For a moment I felt like I was in heaven. I had a dad; I belonged to someone. But I managed to snap out of it.

“Oh, today I’m your daughter? Because it suits you?” I asked rolling my eyes.

“You were always my daughter, I just didn’t want to upset my wife,” he explained.

“You denied me to please your wife?” I asked in total astonishment.
“Is she pleased now? That you abandoned your daughter, again?”

“You don’t understand, I’m sorry. You are my daughter, I love you.”

“Keep your love; I don’t need it. I’ve been doing fine without it.”

“Mihloti, please…”

“I don’t need you, bye.” I said hanging up.

What a pig, after all the pain he’s put me through, he thinks I’ll forgive and forget? Just like that? I thought myself as I threw the phone on the bed.

On top of that he accused my mom of struggling to raise me up, what did he know? “He’s never been here,” I said holding one of the pictures with my mother and I.

Just as I was questioning myself, Ntiyiso, my study mate, came by to visit.

“Hey,” I greeted as if I was doing great.

“Hey,” he said sitting on the couch. “My mom and dad are going to Mpumalanga next week and I am to bring a friend, so can you come with?”

I looked down and said nothing. Maybe I should have given my dad a chance. I would love to have someone to call a dad.

Ntiyiso went on and on about how spending time with his family would be so much fun. It hurt, hearing him talk about his family while my mom was in hospital. I found myself crying.

“Did I say something wrong? Are you okay?” he asked.

“It’s not you. I miss my mom and hearing you talk about your…” I said as my voice broke.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive,” he said giving me a shoulder to lean on.

He was so sweet. I wished everyone would be as sweet as he was.

***

Tell us: Could there be romance in the air for Mihloti?