Tucking an angel in

There's a little girls asleep in my home tonight who has been here for only three short days. I feel like she is a gift to me. Tomorrow she is visiting her mum who is in the final stages of life with a brain tumour. She hasn't lived with her mum for many years but has her photo beside her bed. A photo of her mum with her many years ago. Just after her mum first got sick. Her mum lives in a nursing home now, about four hours drive from here. The little girl has made her mum a pink card and put a photo of herself in it. It would break your heart to read it.

I have gone into her room to say goodnight each night and we've had a little chat. She told me the first night that no one had tucked her in for five years, since her mum did. She told me she was too big to be tucked in now. I said I didn't think so myself. I said we all like to be tucked in. We chatted and she talked about her life, her mum's illness, her mum dying soon. She had her arms folded and she was all curled up and sad. I stroked her hair and blessed her goodnight and sweet dreams.

Tonight I could see she was anxious about tomorrow. Scared what she would find. She hasn't seen her mum for ten weeks. We chatted and she cried and I comforted her and we talked about life and death and dying and angels watching over us and her mum. Then I offered to plait her hair and she nodded. I offered a hug and she opened her arms. She asked if she could keep the fluffy rabbit she found in her room. I said of course. She hugged her too. She said this is the first time in a long time she has enjoyed the school holidays. I told her how glad I was that she had come to stay with me. I blessed her goodnight and wished her sweet dreams.

Tonight I tucked an angel in and I am the one who is blessed.

Daffodils ~ Floriade 2008

"Daffodils" (1804)

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

Dad of my Childhood

through a child's eyes

Golden book stories
sitting on your knee
watching war movies
and westerns
and detective shows
In the garage
wood shavings galore
and hammering too
nails and chisels
and hinges and more
Watching you play basketball
and standing under the ski jump
watching you fly
Picking peas and rhubarb in the garden
and eating them before they could get inside
Playing with the big white rabbit
















Riding my bike
Eating Weatbix and toast
Drinking coffee and beer
Milk coffee biscuits
Smoked Cod and potatoes
Meatballs and gravy
Sweet and sour pork
Salami and cheese
Jam sandwiches....

my hero, my dad