Dad of Girls (Farmor) Son

Dad of Girls

(Farmor)

My son’s flat is small and shared.

It’s chaos and love.

A chain of washing up that never ends —

dishes washed, stacked, used, washed again.

Side space becomes food prep becomes the next task.

Life in circulation.

A baby crawls toward you, glowing with happiness.

Aria, six, bright and sparkly,

always searching for the next thing to do with you.

The house is full to the brim —

fun things to make, games to play,

cushions, teddies, soft furnishings

that wrap you in warmth.

A nest woven from love, care, time.

Not too clean, not too messy,

not too organised, not too unorganised —

just a place where everything is accessible

and nothing needs to be put away.

Things are open.

Things are started.

Things are moved around.

You move around them.

Chaos, but calm.

Crazy, but warm.

Inviting.

Family.

Love.

Happiness.

The dining table is a whole world —

Lego beginnings, sequins ready to stick,

paint drying, clay airing out.

A table of chaos packed memories,

snippets, glitter, colour.

A house of happiness.

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