Running head: Pasasalamat 1

Pasasalamat (Gratitude)

Elma Jessa Gaviola

Arizona State University Downtown Phoenix

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Abstract

The following essay focuses on the authors relationship with her father. It highlights the

significance of a fathers influence on his daughter to experience different perspectives in order

to grow and attain knowledge. In this narrative, the author recognizes her gratitude for being able

to have the opportunity to enjoy the game of volleyball due to her bond with her father. This

writing piece was inspired by Wendy C. Ortiz Revelation, in which the speaker reflects on

their emotions and actions caused by their relationship with their grandmother.

Keywords: father-daughter relationships; family; adolescence; volleyball; appreciation

and thanks
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Pasasalamat (Gratitude)

Theres five minutes on the scoreboard. Where is he? The team lines up to the side and

bump the ball up in the air as my coach spikes it into our arms. I got myself distracted from

warm ups as I keep scanning the bleachers for Dad. Next thing I knew, I was up in line to save

the ball from touching the ground. Just last minute, I slid to the ground and hit it with my left

arm, and the volleyball went flying up through the air.

Were just one game away from this championship. After our hard work and dedication

to get this far in the league, I am incredibly positive this is our chance to take the victory in our

city division. So, its impossible for Dad to miss this moment. It isnt difficult to spot him at each

game. Hes usually seated near the entrance, unless he gives up his spot to others and stands

against the wall by the door. Theres one minute left on the clock, and my teammates start

serving the ball over the net. Hes still not there.

For first impressions on looks, Dad wasnt always perceived to be the friendliest man in

the crowd. He does tend to give off a serious facial expression with his bulky figure and

mustache, like a bear who would growl at my teammates. However, once they had the chance to

speak to him, they thought of him as a kind, approachable bear a teddy bear who always gives

me big hugs. Dad has always been by my side since I came into this world. At the age of eleven,

I knew I wanted to play volleyball in high school like Dad. He was the reason why I found my

love for the game.

As a beginner in volleyball, I needed more assistance. Aside from my coach at school,

Dad became my mentor at home. When he wasnt exhausted from work, he practiced bumping

the volleyball with me in the backyard. Initially, he gently passed the ball back to me. However,
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over time, he started to hit the ball aggressively towards the ground for me to rescue. I was

frustrated he let me fall to the ground. The next day, I had bruises all over my knees.

All throughout middle school, I strived to be a better athlete. I joined other sports teams,

including basketball, track, and bowling. It appeared to me that these and volleyball were just

games. However, Dad allowed me to realize that its more than just a game.

The year before I joined the varsity volleyball team in high school, my parents and I flew

across the ocean to visit their hometown in the Philippines. As a developing country, there were

numerous areas of poverty, including my parents village. Being there opened my eyes to the

major differences between sustaining a middle-class lifestyle in the United States and enduring

the hardships in slums.

During the time we were there, Dads neighborhood was having a volleyball league. Dad

thought itd be a great opportunity to play in a different environment. Through that experience, I

met relatives and neighbors who became my teammates. At the first practice, we were outside in

the dirt with a net, teared on the bottom left corner. I looked around and noticed I was one of the

few who actually had shoes. When we started a game, I was cautious about falling on the ground

and scraping my knees on the rocks. I looked over to Dad who nodded assurance that I will be

fine. Later on, I witnessed a shoeless player leap into the air and smacked the ball over the net

and fell to the ground. They didnt score that round, but they stood back up, dusting off

themselves, with a smile on their face and ready for another. Dad grinned and said to me, thats

how you play a game. I saw that player pour their heart out for the enjoyment of the game, and I

wanted to do the same.

The referee blows the whistle indicating the start of the championship game. I glance

again at the entrance. I only see my brother walking towards the seats, waving at me. I wave
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back and force a smile on my face. My teammates and I proceed to our positions on the court.

Our opponent serves the ball towards our back player, bumps it towards the setter, and the setter

passes it into the air for me to hit. Simultaneously, Im already in the air and was too early. In

that moment, I knew I made a wrong move, and I found myself crashing into my teammate and

stumble to the ground. With much disappointment, I look up near the entrance once more. I spot

Dad; he applauds and nods with assurance to me. I get back up on my feet again, and I feel

grateful.
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References