|Doing the crossword and scratching the dog.|
Two weeks ago my Dad walked in the house returning from his weekly out of house adventures. He had a little black case in his hand and a big smile on his face. Curious, I asked him what he had in the case while I followed him into his room. He placed the case on his bed then sat down in his chair, still smiling. My Dad has always been a man of few words.
I opened the case and immediately experienced the instant sweaty palm syndrome. There in that red velvet lined case was a properly dismantled flute!
Me: What's this for?
Dad: I'm going to learn how to play it.
Me: You know I remember getting dizzy from playing this thing!
Dad: smiled at me
Two days later the house was getting all quiet, the TV and lights were turned off, Mrs Jude had already gone to bed and I was heading to our room. I passed by Dad's room, he was down to having only one light on which made me think he was going to turn in soon too. I got all settled into bed did my last stretch of the day and closed my eyes. All is nice and quite until I hear "pfhooooo, ppppfffhoooooo" which made me open my eyes wide and think, what the fuck!
pfffhoooooooo, pffhoooooooo, pfhoooo
It's my Dad, in his room at something after 10PM, playing the fucking flute.
He kills me sometimes, with a smile.