My Dad. A boy himself once and now and inspiration to my own boys. Explainer of truths, teller of tales, he is Grandpa extraordinaire. My boys adore it when Grandpa comes to stay, his visits are full of games and stories all plucked from his seemingly limitless imagination.
These stories are echoes of the ones my sister and I heard every night as children. Sometimes it was the ‘alternative’ ending to a familiar fairy tale (No Dad! That’s not right! Shouting and laughing at the same time) or the stories of the Little Witch that would be produced at special times, a long bus ride when entertainment was required or a bed time after a hard day.
To this day the sound of my Dad’s voice soothes and calms me as he tells me the stories of How To Be A Grown Up. The stories of How Things Will Be, weaving a vision of a better future with his words. Healing heartache, making laughter, telling me, in grown up language of course, there there, it’s alright. The words I’ve heard all my life and know to be true when my Dad speaks them.
Today I gave my Dad a gift and said Happy Father’s Day, but I am grateful for him every day. And the thing I am the most grateful for is the absolute certainty I hold in my heart of who loves me. My Daddy does.