The Ghost of Memories.
Family.
My father stayed at home with me on the weekends as much as he could. He got fired from his job because he kept skipping or calling in sick when his manager knew he was fine. He knew that that was not good, with a month and a half old baby to look after. He was still at high school, at the time. My grandma, Donna, looked after me, during the weekdays. She was an excellent carer. My grandfather still worked night shifts, so I didn’t see him an awful lot. My great-grandmother, Elena, came over every day to see Donna and I. Donna’s sister, Debbie, also visited a lot.
My dad would come home, everyday after school, and be forced to complete all his homework and exam revision before being allowed to amuse me. Donna knew very well that had he been allowed free-rein over his schedule, exams and homework would be shunted to the bottom in the list of important things to do, and be last-minute.
He would complete everything in record time, he and Donna told me, faster than he ever did before. Donna once said to me, “You’re his first motivation he’s had in years.” I always valued that.
My dad would come home, everyday after school, and be forced to complete all his homework and exam revision before being allowed to amuse me. Donna knew very well that had he been allowed free-rein over his schedule, exams and homework would be shunted to the bottom in the list of important things to do, and be last-minute.
He would complete everything in record time, he and Donna told me, faster than he ever did before. Donna once said to me, “You’re his first motivation he’s had in years.” I always valued that.