timing all wrong, except when it was ohso right sweet mornings and mussed hair and cuddles
but we have a teenage oyes she is here with a vengeance
and at dinner its all no no
no
no
and its all we can do not to roll our eyes at each other across the table because the trouble is
she's smart enough to notice
and cranky enough to care
and suddenly she's hurt herself on the trampoline (like always)
so he's out the door like a flash of light
like the flash of light that fatherhood is
in all its heroism
because nothing moves faster than a father summoned by a quavering voice
and she's folded in his arms
like she's six, like she's two, like yesterday when I blinked,
folded up and crumpled lips and a tearstreak still glistening and shakey fingered
so we tuck her up cosy cosy cosy in the Big Bed, all warm,
with the ice pack (thank god for those when children always hurt themselves on tramolines)
and the old photos from the 70's,
just because I know she'll laugh at his mullet,
and my heart is full because inside that
no
no
no
girl there's still this.
