'I'm working, boy and working is all I will be doing for the next few days, so mouth shut or I will shut it for you.'
My father, this man standing before me after seventeen years (that I wouldn't want back in this life or the next), has changed, both for the better and the worst.
He seems less and less like the Father I knew back then (the one who I could hate and not feel guilty about it) and more like a stranger that I want to help more then I would ever want to remember or help in any way.
"No counting tonight, Walter, I had a tiring day."
"Oh yes, Peter, sleep."
like every other night nothing worked and he went on and on (five billion and one, five billion and two) until sleep was only a dream but unlike any others he began to make sense.
Which is something a whole lot of something.
-
"Is she okay, Peter?"
I knew the moment he spoke (words filled with so much sense it scared usual) who she was.
"And why the hell would you want to know, Walter? She's fine, retired and living happily in Florida, is that enough?"
Within seconds of my answer a steady steam of snores could be heard across the room, for the first time in weeks he had fallen asleep before the clock hit twelve.
And for the first time in weeks he felt like my father (and for the first time I didn't hate him) and lets hope it won't be the last time.