Takeover Melbourne winner, Hung-Vy — Kealba, Victoria
My dad loves to fish. He always has.
I remember being at the pier with my family in the early mornings. The amount of coats mum wrapped around me had me struggling to breathe.
Dad would help me hold the rod as we pulled in a fish, as my mum and sisters watched cheerfully. In the icy grasp of the wind, I remember feeling warm.
But as my sisters and I grew up, we went fishing less as a family.
Dad and I would still go down by the river or the beach or the lake. I always wondered why he would let me be the one to pull the fish in every time. After all, that was really the only fun part of fishing.
But he always seemed to enjoy peacefully waiting around just as much as pulling in a fish.
Eventually I stopped going with him so much; it was a bore and frankly, the very thought of putting a worm on a hook made me squirm, it still does.
When my mum and dad fought, even over the sounds of the yelling and arguing, my house felt empty. Eventually, they agreed it was best for them to separate.
When dad visits, he shows me pictures of his latest catch. He tells me he'd love to take me again. I tell him I'd love to go too.
I used to think fishing was a big part of what brought my dad and I closer together.
The times when he went fishing without me, I worried that I should've been there to pull in those fish.
But I've come to realise I'm his son for so much more than just fishing. He's always just wanted to see me happy.