In a corner of our living area there sits a chest of drawers. Because we rent and our landlord won’t let us put any holes in the walls, the top of the chest of drawers is home to our big clock. It also has some trays, candles and a few photos.
Bella as a brand new puppy, a self-portrait of me with Bubba’s Fairy God Mother the day of her wedding, and a photo of my daddy. In the butcher shop with a mate. A photo that was taken a long, long time ago. They are photos I point out to Bubba and I say who they are. I suppose I’ve been doing that for a long time. Just like the photos on my bedside table.
Regular readers will know that my daddy died when I was young. Twenty seven years ago this month. We talk about him and when we’re saying goodnight we always say we love grandpa and grandpa loves us.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever loved my daughter more than I did tonight. She climbed up onto her chair and pointed at the photo of my daddy. The photo of Bella didn’t get a mention, nor did the other photo of me and FGM. She pointed at the other butcher in the photo first: this grandpa friend, this grandpa then she smiled at me.
With my heart in my throat I grabbed my phone so I could film her then I asked her to tell me again.
She was even more proud of herself the second time she said it. I then engulfed her in kisses and cuddles.