A Tale of The Little Dad

Once there was a little boy. He was in school and he listened to his teacher intently. Albeit his small frame and stature, his mind could easily comprehend what the teacher was talking about.
The teacher gave an instruction. They had to bring out their coloring materials and their sketch pad for they would have an activity. A drawing activity.
The boy happily got his things and waited for his teacher's directions. The teacher asked the class to draw something. She asked them to draw about the members of their family, label them and write a short story about them.
The little boy was a bit stunned. His fingers could not move. For a while his mind seemed to drift somewhere else. For a while he seemed to be looking for something. Or someone.
His tiny hands started to draw. Figures were made. For a while he was lost in his own world. He drew of a big house with a mountain backdrop. He thought of the color of the roof, the walls and the gates. He conjured images of the garden bursting with colors and surrounded with lush, green trees with the sun smiling down at them and a rainbow arching behind. Everything was falling into pieces. Then he came to his family. He drew his mother. The figure was as big as the house. Probably because his mother had a very close and intimate proximity in his own little world. Then he drew his younger brother and himself. His figure was obviously bigger than that of his brother but the proximity between him, his brother and his mother was really very close and huddled together. Especially his mom who got the biggest space among everything else. Then came the part for his dad. Suddenly, he did not know what to do. He tried to remember everything but there were only vague images. Sudden and fleeting images of his father carrying him, playing with him, reading stories for him. He was confused. He started to ask himself why. Why with mother, I could easily think of good and happy things, of happy times? Why were her pictures in my mind clear as if they were really happening at the time? Why with dad, everything seemed to be covered by smoke, everything was not seen clearly, everything was incomplete?
Yet, he had to follow teacher. She said draw members of the family. So as best as he could, he tried to draw a figure. A small figure. A figure just a little bigger than the little boy's. Upon closer look, the figure seemed to be far away and on the other side of the house. While the other three were huddled together, the dad's figure was obviously separated from them.
Then the boy stopped drawing. He thought it was all that he could do and that he did it right. He went to his teacher and had her check his work. The teacher was quite pleased with the boy's job and read the description he wrote under:

"This is our house. It is beautiful. There is a beautiful garden. I see the sun is happy. My brother and I are happy. Our mommy is with us. She takes care of us everyday. She is beautiful. She loves us very much.
That is our daddy. I can't remember his face very much. He works in Singapore. He is only with us for a short time. He goes to the airport and rides the airplane many times. Before, my mommy and I would cry because he would go away again. But I am a big boy now. Sometimes, when he goes away, I don't cry anymore. I don't know why. Sometimes I miss him, sometimes I don't. All I see is my mommy. She is very big and beautiful and kind. She loves me and my brother. We are a happy family even if we don't have daddy."