It was a perfect early spring day for Fathers’ Day. Warm, sunny, and fragrant with blossoms in the air. I made a batch of fresh lemonade and we packed together a picnic of olives, marinated artichokes, salami, blue cheese, crackers and stuffed baguettes, and headed to the park for the afternoon.
Madeleine loved it, positively basking in the warm sunlight. At one point I looked over and caught Mr B sharing a kiss with big daughter and small, and my heart swelled fit to burst. Man I love this family!
Later I rang my own father as we took a stroll up Brunswick Street on the way to play ping pong at Grub. Dad was having a not so happy day, feeling sick, so we’ll have to make a big fuss of him when he and Mum make it down to Melbourne for a visit next weekend. They haven’t seen Madeleine since the week she was born, so they are well overdue for some cuddles with my big chubby princess.
Is there ever a time when you stop feeling like a child around your parents? I mean that in a good way. To this day my natural instinct is still to turn to Dad (and Mum) for advice, for guidance, for wisdom. When you are a little girl, your parents are the source of everything you need to know. Then puberty hits and they know nothing, plus, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME OR MY MUSIC. Finally the hormones settle down and you become friends again.
Now with little Madeleine in my world, I find myself turning to them even more: for support, for guidance, for love. I really have to remind myself from time to time that they might need my support, too. Most of all, I want little M to know her Nan and Pa, to give them the smiles and giggles she gives to others in her life. I wish they lived closer to us, I really do.