It’s Father’s Day here in Australia.
So, in honour, I’m sharing a memory,
one of my favourites with my Dad…
When I was five, his voice carried surprise:
“Let’s walk to McDonald’s for brekky.”
No begging needed, which was pure delight.
We hurried out the door.
But the sky split open.
Rain hammered down.
We waited beneath a tree,
hoping the storm might pass.
But it didn’t.
So, Dad gathered my sister and I,
one in each arm,
and carried us back home.
As we sat in the kitchen,
he worked his magic:
soft, golden pancakes,
covered in butter and sprinkled in coloured sugar…
fairy bread, disguised as breakfast.
A child’s dream.
Twenty years later,
I don’t remember the failed walk.
I remember his arms.
The warmth of that morning.
And the pancakes that tasted of love.
Thank you, Dad.
Many Blessings, Grace. Xx
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