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Regulate Your Sleep Temperature.

Customer Posting: My Story with Dad

my story with dad

Lucas Lu |

- Margaret Davis

In fact, it was only in recent years that my relationship with my father began to thaw. Over the many years, our relationship has been mostly mundane, interspersed with arguments, hysteria, and some indifference. I deeply understand that this stems from my father projecting his own youthful aspirations onto me, without achieving any of the results he desired.

I don't blame him for this. Under his expectant gaze, I didn't choose medicine; instead, I chose design. By that time, I had already learned to ignore the disappointment in his eyes.

During my time in college, I rarely went home. New York's cost of living was expensive and beyond my means as a young adult. The lifestyle in New York was vastly different from what I was used to from my hometown, Navarro County. With the cost of a semester looming and the studio I co-founded with my classmates to keep me busy, I rarely made it home even for holidays.

But not everyone has such fortunate stories. Unfortunately, our entrepreneurial venture ultimately ended in failure. A year after I graduated, I said goodbye to my friend at the airport and watched him board a plane back to New Jersey while I sat outside the airport, sipping a cup of coffee and observing the constant activity at the busy terminal. I picked up my phone and called my mother, who happily reported that both she and my father were at home and asked me to visit them. However, what I was really looking for were words of encouragement, words that would push me not to give up and compromise. 

At that moment, I heard my father's voice on the other end of the phone, saying, "Let her go to New York. She's still young; these things don't amount to much." His words gave me the courage and reassurance I was searching for. No longer fearing failure, I made my way back while also contacting a loan manager to handle the debts left behind. Soon enough, I had a job and was learning meaningful skills.

To cut a long story short, about two years after I regained my footing, I returned to my parents' home in Navarro for a short stay. It was then that I discovered how much my parents, especially my father, had changed from what I remembered. Unlike my mother, who was always cheerful, my father had become increasingly silent, spending most of his days tending to the garden.

The old house had poor sound insulation, and I often heard sighs from the adjacent room late at night, followed by the sound of opening a window. Then a whiff of smoke would drift through my window and dissipate. My father was suffering from insomnia. 

The summer in Navarro was impossible to sleep through, especially with temperatures climbing over 90s. Dad's beloved cows and sheep were chomping all night, unable to get any rest. The homestead, standing for over thirty years, had to adjust to the huge changes brought by air conditioning installation, making it hard to find relief during the night.

So, I decided to gift him a cooling bedding, one that could alleviate the heat, if only a little. Perhaps it would lessen the sound of his sighs, reduce the number of cigarettes he smoked, and quiet the creaking of the floorboards as he paced around the house. I am grateful to Zonli Z-magic for providing me with an opportunity to silently aid my father. This cooling blanket serves as an unspoken emissary, conveying my care for him without uttering a word.

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