I remembered that when I was little, daddy always come home, wearing dirty overalls, stained with oil and paint. I never really knew what daddy works as, not until when I got older. He was part of the team who laid the bricks when the old National Library was built; just an ordinary odd job labourer.

Years later, daddy went over to help his elder brother with his hawker stall. And since then, daddy had been working in the food industry with his brothers. And when his elder brother retired, he worked for his younger brother. Nah, he’s never the owner of the stalls, just an assistant. And I know daddy preferred it that way.

There’s just something about me and daddy. We don’t mind giving more even though we might be taken advantage of. We get contented really easily.

Daddy had been working for my uncle for many years. In fact, when he was working at the construction site many years ago, he was working for his cousin. His life mainly revolves around his siblings and relatives. Daddy doesn’t have many friends I guess, that’s one of our common traits too.

As much as I love warm weathers, I doubt that daddy would love them since working at the stall is much like being in an oven, with the poor ventilation. But, I hardly hear any complains from him. Sometimes, it really hurts to see the heat rashes he had on him. Not forgetting, being scald by the hot, splattering oil.

It must be really hard on him all these years, I thought. It must be.

Daddy rarely gets to take a rest. In fact, it was only during the recent years that he got to take a day off once every fortnight. And even when he was given that day off, daddy still goes down to clean up the stall. He’s always the first the open the stall, leaving home at 6 in the morning and only returning home around 3 in the afternoon.

But all these would come to an end later this month. Daddy would be out of job soon. The stall that my uncle owns would be taken by some other vendors due to the increase of rental from the present $7000 per month to $12000 per month. It’s pretty obvious that my uncle had to choose not to cling on to the stall.

Daddy’s not sure if uncle would open up a new stall in the estate near our place. Daddy’s intending to get back to what he did in his earlier years. Yes, back to the construction site. It really breaks my heart upon hearing that. He’s already close to 60.

Daddy ended up having to comfort and reassure me that things might not be that bad working at the construction site, since it is much windy. I doubt so, since he would be directly under the scorching sun.

I’m sure daddy’s not feeling really great these days. The sudden lost and emptiness in him. Times like these, I wish I’m financially independent.

Daddy, I just want you to be happy.