8:15pm on Fridays, by Emily A. Kim

At 8:15pm on Fridays, I get to officially have my dad back.

At 8:15pm on Fridays, I’m sitting shotgun in my mom’s white SUV on the upper deck of John Wayne Airport’s Terminal A, parked in front of Southwest Airlines. From the passenger’s seat window, I watch each person emerge from the sliding doors, their eyes darting around to find their driver. I observe their faces light up when their spouse or parent jumps out of the driver’s seat and greets them with a hug that seems to never end.

At 8:15pm on Fridays, I find myself waiting for my dad. I’m waiting for the moment when he walks out of those sliding doors looking for our white SUV only to see my face pressed up against the window. I’m waiting for the moment when I see a smile on his face as his eyes meet mine; and as they do, in two seconds, I’ve transformed into the wives and husbands I was observing not long ago, except now I’m the daughter who gets to greet her dad by jumping in his arms.

At 8:15pm on Fridays, I get my dad back. I get to see his face in the kitchen cooking spaghetti bolognese while dancing to John Mayer and see him lying on the couch with my mom watching a new top rated K-drama. I get to talk to him about my classes and my friends, and I get to hear him tell me about his version of classes which are his meetings and his version of friends which are his colleagues. And for the next two days, I get to be with my dad whether that’s working out together or taking a nap or going on a drive.

At 5:30am on Mondays, I lose my dad. I wake up to him opening my bedroom door and coming towards me to give me a kiss on the forehead as it’s that time to leave for work again. I lift myself up to hug him from my bed and just like that in half an hour, he’s heading towards the sliding doors of John Wayne Airport at Terminal A in front of Southwest Airlines.

And as every week passes, the routine is the same: 5:30am on Mondays is when my dad leaves me and 8:15pm on Fridays is when my dad comes home to me.