Q & A #4
by Colleen Hillerup
Spike sat on the living room floor, surrounded by little coloured blocks. He worked on constructing his castle, while his daughter was content to stick two pieces together and pull them apart again. "Daddy," she asked, "why don't I have a nana?"
"What, pet?"
"Lily's nana bakes her cookies. Is Auntie Willow my nana?"
"Lily. One of the girls at playgroup?" he asked. Meredith nodded. "No, Willow is your Auntie Willow. You don't have a nana. Not here, anyway." He stood and picked a picture frame from the book shelf. "You know who this is, don't you, love?"
"That's Granny Joyce. She looks nice. Do you know her?"
"I knew Joyce. She was a beautiful lady. She treated your daddy right well, when no one else would." He pointed to the photo. "And that little girl is your mommy. Joyce was mommy's mommy. She was your nana."
Meredith laughed. "You're silly, daddy. Mommy's not a little girl."
"Not now, no. But she was. Just like daddy was a little boy. Long, long ago."
The child was overcome by giggles. "You weren't a little boy. That's funny."
Spike picked her up and placed her on his lap. "I was a little boy. I had a father who loved me very much, but we lost him when I was very young. He was your papa. My mother was your nana, too." He brushed the blonde hair from her face with his fingers. "She would have loved you so much. I think she'd finally be proud of me."
"Daddy," Meredith whispered, "Did they die?"
"Long ago, pet. Long ago."
She counted on her fingers. "Your mommy. Your daddy. Grandma Joyce. That's three. Did mommy have a daddy?"
"She has a dad, of sorts, I suppose. She doesn't hear from him much."
"Doesn't he love us?" She looked up at her father. Not for the first time with her, he was at a loss for words.
"Let's play Legos, pet."
by Colleen Hillerup
Spike sat on the living room floor, surrounded by little coloured blocks. He worked on constructing his castle, while his daughter was content to stick two pieces together and pull them apart again. "Daddy," she asked, "why don't I have a nana?"
"What, pet?"
"Lily's nana bakes her cookies. Is Auntie Willow my nana?"
"Lily. One of the girls at playgroup?" he asked. Meredith nodded. "No, Willow is your Auntie Willow. You don't have a nana. Not here, anyway." He stood and picked a picture frame from the book shelf. "You know who this is, don't you, love?"
"That's Granny Joyce. She looks nice. Do you know her?"
"I knew Joyce. She was a beautiful lady. She treated your daddy right well, when no one else would." He pointed to the photo. "And that little girl is your mommy. Joyce was mommy's mommy. She was your nana."
Meredith laughed. "You're silly, daddy. Mommy's not a little girl."
"Not now, no. But she was. Just like daddy was a little boy. Long, long ago."
The child was overcome by giggles. "You weren't a little boy. That's funny."
Spike picked her up and placed her on his lap. "I was a little boy. I had a father who loved me very much, but we lost him when I was very young. He was your papa. My mother was your nana, too." He brushed the blonde hair from her face with his fingers. "She would have loved you so much. I think she'd finally be proud of me."
"Daddy," Meredith whispered, "Did they die?"
"Long ago, pet. Long ago."
She counted on her fingers. "Your mommy. Your daddy. Grandma Joyce. That's three. Did mommy have a daddy?"
"She has a dad, of sorts, I suppose. She doesn't hear from him much."
"Doesn't he love us?" She looked up at her father. Not for the first time with her, he was at a loss for words.
"Let's play Legos, pet."