"Daughter, how long does it take for you to get from your home to this prison?" Baba croaked, his beloved wrinkled face peering up at me from where he laid like ghost on his bed.

"11 hours, 36 minutes, and 9 seconds." I slipped off my kitten heels and dropped my trusty purse on the table. "I'll stay in Florida forever as soon as my boss completes the transfer. Then I'll visit you every day for as long as you want me to."

"You promise?" Baba pouted, his lips so petulant they could hold a cup.

"I promise," I cooed, trying to hide my guilt for not visiting sooner. It had been years since I had last visited Baba, and age had not been kind to him. His cheeks were so thin you could see his bones like scalpels,  and his bulging rock cod eyes seemed to see only shadows. All this made me feel worse.

It seemed like yesterday when Baba had dove in front of that screeching car, pushing me through a crack of space to safety. I had escaped the Reaper with barely a scratch while he had...

I looked around his apartment, grasping for an idea. It had once been a cheery space, but now it was more like a mouldering prison. Dark, grumpy curtains obliterated any bit of sunshine, obscuring the photos of the bicycle tours Baba had hosted around Spain. The photos were dusty and curled around the edges now, as if they were trying to leap off the walls that shackled them.

It was clear Baba wasn’t eating. The baskets of fruits I had sent him were gathering a layer of fur in a corner of his living room, and he looked like a bed of bones. In spite of all my efforts, Baba wouldn't eat. He refused to eat unless I was there beside him, feeding him spoon after spoon of his favorite fish porridge as I regaled him with stories about the world outside his room.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to get Baba help. I'd personally made sure every single one of his neighbors knew about his situation and hired a carousel of nurses to tend him. Yet he kicked them out as soon as I boarded the plane home, complaining they were no fun.

It seemed like the older he got, the more he regressed to the child he once was--only without the cuteness. I felt bad for resenting him after all he had done, but I couldn’t help wishing Baba would once again reclaim his place as my father instead of my child.

But today, I had brought something I hoped would change everything. I reached into my purse, pulled out a silver-plated headset, then clipped it onto Baba's head.

"What is this? Is it a souvenir from Bangladesh?" Baba's eyes leaped up to catch a glimpse of the mysterious headset. He cocked his head, but no matter how hard he tried, the headset wouldn't budge.

"I'm taking you on a vacation. Pamela, activate the Great Wall of China." I spoke to the headset, making sure to enunciate every word.

The device flashed right on cue as Pamela responded in her computerized voice, "Processing..."

"Wait! What is happening? Don't leave me!" Baba tried to shake Pamela off. "I don't want a vacation! I don't want a vacation--"

"Scene loaded. "

Baba fell silent as his mouth jumped off his face, gawking at the space below him like he'd just seen the Qilin dragon of Chinese mythology, swimming to celebrate his arrival. I pulled out my own headset and joined him on his journey. There we were, standing 40 feet above the ground, overlooking a sea of green trees.

"I...I don't understand...I'm in China...I can walk...I can touch...This is a miracle!" Baba exclaimed, reaching to feel the ancient bricks in front of him. He then began to jump like a startled rabbit, afraid of losing his new, functioning legs, afraid that this was all just a mirage. "How did this happen?"

I smiled at Baba's excitement. It had been years since I had seen this look on his face. "Pamela's a world-traveling headset I made. She uses satellite technology to scan tour-stops in order to mimic the same experience. I know you've always wanted to travel the world but can't after you..." I gulped down the sob that attempted to break through as the vision of Baba flying after the car crash replayed once again in my mind. "I hope this will fulfill your dream."

All Baba heard was the fact that Pamela could take him to other tour-stops. "Pamela, I want to travel!"

"Where would you like to visit, Sir Baba?" Pamela asked sweetly, "Downloaded tours in your travel library include the Eiffel Tower, the Great Pyramids, the Spanish Steps—"

Baba gasped. "Go to the Spanish Steps!"

"Opening the Spanish Steps." Pamela processed as Baba jaunted off to his favorite dimension. I chuckled before I removed my headset, and immediately, I was back in Baba's small, dark room.

I watched as Baba nodded, so engaged in his tour he forgot about all else. He giggled like a little kid as his eyes fluttered about his room. A halo of light radiated from his face, brightening his gloomy "prison." Tears stung my eyes, threatening to trickle down my cheeks like snowballs down a roof.

That visit was six months ago today, but unlike before, Baba hadn't called me since. As I emerged from the car with a bundle of suitcases, I realized that this was the first time I had to initiate the call.

"Baba, I'm moving to Florida! I'll come visit you right away!" I phoned.

"No, no need. Can you hang up right now? I'm hiking up Mount Rushmore!"

I raised my eyebrows, trying to imagine Baba with sweat tromping down his forehead as he trudged up the face of George Washington.

I laughed at my imagination. "When will you finish your hike?"

"11 hours, 36 minutes, and 9 seconds."