But when he saw me and my bag, he laughed. “Champion, living on a ship is no fun. You can’t play in the sand, you can’t run on the fields, and most importantly, you won’t be able to fly your kite.” I dropped my bag. He rubbed my head. “Cheer up, Champion. Count the days until I return for your birthday.”

I did as he said. In January, I began crossing off the days on a calendar and at night I counted each day left. On the first of April, after a day of pranking each other in class with April Fool’s jokes, I realised that it was only a month until my birthday. After school I sped home. At the door, I was met with a surprise: my father, sitting on his usual couch, as if he had always been there, facing our boombox and television set.

“Dad…is that you?” I scratched my head. My heart leaped with excitement, but I did not shout hurray! or race to him. I stared at my dad as if he were a dream. Finally, I took a tentative step toward him.

His eyes were smiling, but he did not get up as he usually did. He did not lift me and spin me through the air. Instead, staying seated, he spread his arms for a hug.

“How about an early birthday present?”

“I knew it!”

I sat on his lap and buried my face into his shoulder, allowing him to tickle my ribs until I fell to the floor, out of breath. I lifted my head and my mother’s eyes met mine from where she was standing in the dining room. She said nothing, looking away. She didn’t join Abena and me in the living room while we listened to my father’s adventures onboard ship. And later, at the dinner table, she did not laugh at any of his jokes.

As days passed, more and more rain fell, bringing with it fast winds that ripped tree branches and uprooted plants from their roots. I watched from my window as a branch fell from a tree, destroying my kite. After securing what was left of it, I grumbled to my father, hoping we could make a new one, but he shook his head and looked away. The next time I asked for help with the kite, he promised that we would build a new one when the rain stopped falling.

Day by day, the skies cleared up and on my eighth birthday the sun came out. On that day, I had a party at school and was given lots of presents, and at home, we ate the best jollof rice. I never wanted the day to end. When the guests left, my father entered the living room holding a brand-new craft box. He sat beside me.