he stands there. so proud. explaining, the magic. the smirk. the eyes and hair and skin and colours. the puffer fish with their decorative lighting staring at him, too. i listened to the sound of his voice. the sadness as he explained the difficulty. i don’t see her that often. well mum and i…he trails off. but she looks like me. she’s definitely my daughter. he says her eyes look like a nebular. spitting colours, drawing images. so poetically he speaks. a father’s love for his new born child. bursting.
sad. but proud and excited and happy.
she’s going to be a dancer. she loves music. i have images of her, in a sundress, me the dj as she twirls. pause. smile. as if his imagination continues to roll in his head.
so many hopes for his child. for her future. her life. the dreams are inexplainable to him. too many. he stumbles on his words, tries to race to say the most insignificant, yet wholly important details about the innocence that is his child. his blood. his heart and his soul.