The author can be found rummaging through life looking for nourishment in the early hours of the morning. He is slowly going sane by using his actual life and relationships to wake up.He lives in Cape Town with his teenaged daughter, two bassett hounds named Thelma and Louise and Digit... the cat. He hugs trees, has experienced numerous dark nights of the soul, collects incorrect Chinese packaging and tracks curious things to their lair.
Diary of a (sometimes) reluctant fatherPsychotherapy March 16, 2013 - 9:12 am No Comment
Sometimes I get tired of the chaos, crying, snot, teething, temperatures, tantrums, tactile sensitivity, irritation, expectations, constipation, suffocation, alliteration and aggravation!
I cannot remember the last time I read something uninterrupted besides Winnie the Pooh’s birthday party or Enid Blyton. I wake up with feet in my face, crumbs in the bed, a stray half eaten regurgitated chicken sausage under my pillow. Sometimes I want to go to the shops for ‘milk’ and get on a plane to Chile and hike without seeing any small folk, or wives for a very long time.
And then I stare at my daughter’s tight curls at the back of her head wondering at their miraculous symmetry, I hear her soft snores and wonder what she’s dreaming about. I wipe tomato sauce from the corner of her mouth as she smiles in her sleep. I get up and my wife puts her arms around me while I make a cup of tea, she rests her cheek between my shoulder blades and tells me she loves me and appreciates me before she goes to the spare room to put her ear plugs in. I sit on the stoep as the warm wind soothes my ruffled spirits and slowly, very slowly I realize that I have everything that I need.