the colour of our lives

poetry • celebration • faith • nature • humanity • imperfections • glory

imagined conversations with my adult daughter

  • Do you think it’s weird, you know, that I’m your Dad?
  • Nope.
  • Ok, cool.
  • Dad, it’s gotta be a minor sixth for the harmony!
  • Oh, yeah, sorry.
  • That’s more like it.
  • Remember when you were about eight and I started wearing that ear-ring again?
  • I wanted you to take it out … I still do.
  • Oh.
  • There’s this guy at church … he thinks you can only read the bible properly in Greek.
  • Really? – what do you reckon?
  • He’s such a bonehead, Dad. Sorry, but he is.
  • I love trees!
  • I like it that you’re into the environment, like your mum and me.
  • I would’ve been into it anyway, Dad.

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7 thoughts on “imagined conversations with my adult daughter

  1. i love the end – like we all think we’re so original. (smile)

  2. Evelyn on said:

    this is so simply good.

  3. My fourth daughter is 18 now. When she was five she would run along beside me, sometimes run around me, while I carried five gallon buckets of water to the pasture for the cows (it’s a long story). Once she interrupted her singing to say, “Papa, don’t you wish you were young and free like me?” It is a question I have never learned to answer other than by treasuring.

    • thanks for sharing, Carroll – the wisdom, and clarity of sight, of the young is beautifully shocking at times. Since she was two we started keeping a book of my daughter’s sayings; some funny, some profound, and often both.

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