Every Weekend

Every Weekend

Every weekend my father wakes up early in the morning; He’s an early bird. He even wakes up before the sun or the birds start to sing. Sometimes my father wakes up to prepare food for everyone while we are still asleep, even though he’s very tired from his job during the weekdays that made his hand very stiff and rough. On the weekend, he works on his projects.

In the author's poem, line five “no one ever thanked him,” the author doesn't appreciate what his father did for him very much. He most certainly doesn’t understand his father way of thinking. For me it's different, during my childhood I spent most of my days fishing in our pond, or helping my father with some project that he had around the house. I always come back to him with everything for help. He would be doing something in the garage, and I would catch a fish that had swallowed the hook. I would run up to the house, break his concentration, and he would come help me. He always did that, and never seemed to mind. It was like it was his job to love me and teach me how to be a good person, setting an example in the house for everyone. He’s my father, my friend and my most trusted person.

In the poem, I get a strong sense that there is no bond, like my father and I have which leads to confusion in the narrator's life. For instance, in line eight when he says "I would slowly rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of the

Thao Vang

Comp. 101

Tues & Thurs 9-10:40

house," this gives me a strong sense of sadness, about their relationships. It sounds to me that there’s lack in communication in his house, everyone is yelling and shouting at each other. For me, my relationships with my father, we have good times, bad times together, sharing all the joys, and sadness. Some day I would really have a bad day and tell him about my situation