It was early one Monday morning. The light of the moon wasn't even visible through the thick clouds of fog. It was cold inside the plane, even though everyone had turned their air vents off.

My father snored next to me. Surely he was more tired than I could have ever perceived. He was up all night, packing everything that we needed to move down to Washington.

We had sold most of my mother's stuff after she died. We kept a few things though, that we knew she would never want gone. Those were her wedding band, a key chain with a picture that illustrated her grandfather that died in World War II, and a golden-chained necklace that was given to her by my grandmother. They were her prized possessions; she kept them on her person at all times. They were all given to me.

The diamond band rested perfectly on my right ring finger. The key chain was attached to the gold necklace, which dangled around my neck.

After her death, when the police returned what was with her while the car crash had taken place, I wore them all the time. I couldn't take them off if I tried. They were my last memory of her.

When I checked my iPod the clock read 3:46. Our flight was almost over; I slept through most of it. My father and I took turns sleeping. He let me sleep longer, though, for he wanted me to be rested when I met Kelly.

It was already a year after my mother's death, so I should've been ebullient that my father found another person to be happy with, but I wasn't. I was furious and outraged, but I couldn't reveal that to my father.

He met Kelly when he was on a business trip in Washington (I staid with my mother's sister while he was gone). Apparently they hit it off fabulously, and the rest is history. What a cliché. They didn't make history, but I had to grin and bear it. I wanted my father to be happy.

A voice came over the overcom. "Flight attendants prepare for landing."

I sighed and looked over at my father.

"Daddy." I shook his arm. "Daddy, wake up."

"What is it Taya?" he whined as if he were five.

"We're about to land. Wake up Daddy."
With a soft moan he pulled his chair back up and threw the blanket of his shoulders.

He looked at me and smiled. He took the back of my head and pulled me towards him to kiss my silky brown hair.

"Je t'aime, ma belle," he whispered. I love you, my beauty

My father and mother both spoke different languages to me, so I learned three by the time I was four. When I was with my father and his family I used French or English, and when I was with my mother and her family I used Japanese and English. They had one language in common.

"Je t'aime aussi, Papa," I replied back, sighing. "Où sont Kelly et son fils?"

I love you too, Daddy. Where are Kelly and her son?

"Je ne sais pas, ma belle. Je crois qu'ils sont dans le réclamation de bagages."

I don't know, my beauty. I think they're at the baggage claim.

"D'accord. Kelly est une belle dame, et je suis heureux de la rencontrer."
Okay. Kelly is a beautiful woman and I am happy to meet her.

"Bien. Tu es une trés bonne fille."

Good. You are a great daughter.

"Et tu es un trés bon père."

And you are a great dad.

"Il est quatre heures, raison?"

It's four o'clock, right?

"Presque. Il est trios heures cinquante."

Almost. It's three fifty.

"Ah, bon. Il est trés tôt, n'est pas?"
Oh, good. It's really early, isn't it?

"Oui, mais je ne soin pas. Je ne dors pas beacoup quoi qu'il en soit."
Yeah, but I don't care. I don't sleep much anyways.

"Tu as sommeil, Taya? Tu as besoin de sommeil."
Are you tired Taya? You need sleep.

"Je sais, Papa," I sighed, "Mais je ne soin pas parce-que je n'aime pas de sommeil."
I know, Daddy, but I don't care because I don't like sleep.

"Tu n'aime pas beacoup de chose," he laughed. "Tu es têtu, Taya."
You don't like a lot of things. You are stubborn, Taya.

"Je le sais aussi, Papa."
I know that too, Daddy.

"Peut-être, mais je t'aime les mêmes."

Maybe, but I still love you the same.

"Bien."
Good.

I only caught the last part of our head flight attendants speech, and still I was too lazy to listen.

As the plane came to a stop my father got up and held his hand out for me.

"Prêt?"
Ready?

I sighed. "Oui, Papa."

We were about the fifth to get off the plane in Seattle. It seemed like my father rushed us to go so he could get to his beloved fiancée.
I wasn't there to witness the proposal, and sometimes I was glad that I wasn't. I was never a person to like the romantic part of life. It was too much good emotion for me to handle at once.

"Daddy, slow down!" I called after him, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder. "Papa!"
He slowed down a bit for me and laughed whole-heartedly.

"Oh, excusez-moi!" he cried, taking me into his arms. "How could I forget about you?"

"I don't know dad," I shook my head. "You just seem to forget everything these days."
He didn't hear me; he was running to his beloved.

A/n

Okay so I know its short. I kinda have writers block right now and I wanted to post something for y'all. So here ya go.