I usually do poems or photo poems, (trying to avoid prose as I tend to be a bit “cheryline”) but this is a mixture.
He told me the Swiss roll was the best I had ever made, as was the mini Guyanese black cake that I made and put in his lunch box.
He is not one for compliments, so, as my daughter said, “When you get one from Dad, you know he means it.”
He is impossible to buy for, what do I know about spanners, soldering stations, computer bits and refrigerator parts?
In the end I bought him a lunch box in the shape of a garden shed; a chocolate spanner – actually that was quite cool, looked metallic and rusty; a water pistol to scare off marauding cats – (they poo and dig up everything I’m sorry cat lovers…) and an apple shaped kneeling pad.
No it hasn’t been blissfully happy all the 30 years. Tears, grit and knots have also gone into the textured relationship so far, but I would not change it. Neither do I take it for granted. I am grateful to a gracious God who, I believe, worked with us.
The grit has, I think, become a beautiful and precious pearl.