Crafting Form

He sits silently as the early morning shadows darken his sunken face. His cold cracked palms press together, calloused fingers flattened, forehead falling forward meeting the folded thumbs. Threads drift away from the tattered sleeves wrapping his wrists. Barren elbows rest on the polished greyed wood. He sits with a still intensity, his breathing loud but steady. His head lifts and his hands drop to the table where they trace a gash and traverse a dent. His eyelids lift revealing light brown irises. They gaze up at the ceiling marbled by a web of fractures. Sunlight flutters through the frozen windows filling the room, lightening his face as a smile spreads. A cry pierces the air.

“Daddy!” His mouth becomes taught. His brow creases. His gnarled hands grip the table. “Daddy! I wake!” His eyes dart to the door and then drift down to the coffee. He raises the cup to his lips. “DAD EEE!” He slowly sips as steam swirls around his sharp nose. “DAD EEE!” The chair squeaks and scrapes against the floor. “DAD EEE! DAD EEE! DAD EEE!” He moves methodically across the room floor boards creaking as he goes. “DAD EEE!” “I’m coming!” His voice cracks. He pushes the door open. A toddler radiating with the morning light stands in her crib staring at him. “Dady.” Her round face stretched by a growing grin is half buried in a fuzzy pink blanket “I wake.”. A spark in her grey eyes dances as her dad moves toward her. He stops. He stares. Her tiny arms stick out. “Daddy up.” He bends down, pecks her head and picks her up.

On one side a waffle with a single bite leans precariously against half a pancake. A chunk of banana is smeared across the table with crumbs adorning it. On the other side a stack of pancakes is being steadily devoured with an empty peel sitting beside the plate. A six year old boy’s jaw moves like an inkjet across the page. The two year old picks at the waffle and then smears the banana across the table. The father’s chair creeks as he leans back. He sips cold coffee and quietly watches the two children. “Dad. Did you know that when it’s summer here people in Australia are drinking hot cocoa?” asks the six year old through a mouth full of pancakes. “Gobble gobble.” Chimes in the toddler. The father nods his head. “Yes, it’s winter there when it’s summer here.” “Gobble, gobble.” Her arms are flapping at her side. She looks sideways at her dad, and cocks her head.  “Woof, Woof!” “Meow! Meowww!” “Dad, do fish sleep?” A pancake smacks the floor. 

“Robot attack!” The toddler is now rushing her father with a blanket over her head. “Vroom, vroom, VROOOM!” The boy is in the other room playing with his cars. The robot whispers to her father saying “shhh” with her finger over her lips. “I tack.” Her feet patter away. The boy glances up and sees her coming towards him. He rises and rushes toward his sister yelling “Robot Atttaccckkkk!!” The little robot screams and comes running back burying her head in father’s lap. She immediately looks up and says “shhh” with her finger over her mouth again. She turns and runs towards him, tiny feet pounding the hardwood floors. She’s almost there but her pants fall down, stopping her in her tracks. Everyone erupts in laughter.

The father rises and pours himself another cup of coffee. He sighs deeply. The kids are entertaining themselves. Giggles and stories of firemen rescuing kittens and knights slaying dragons flow out from their rooms. The father sits back down at the table covered in food. “It was just breakfast” he thinks as he stands and clears the mess noticing a new gouge in the wood. He retrieves his laptop and begins to type. His brow furrows as he stops and stares and then begins again. He whispers under his breath and his hands clench. Laughter and screams fill the air. He takes a bite of waffle.

A teary eyed toddler comes around the corner. “Bruhthuh no nice!” He slowly closes the laptop and looks up at her. “What happened?” He asks. “He take dolly.” He picks her up as he yells to her brother “Did you take her doll?” “No, she threw it off the bed.” He looks back at her. A smirk spreads across her face under the tears. “Did you throw Dolly?” She nods. “What are all the tears about?” She just looks at him, smiles a huge face splitting smile and buries her head. She looks back up flashing a grin and then buries her head. She starts to giggle. Looking up and burying her head. She starts to belly laugh as she does it again. Her small body shakes. She can hardly draw a breath. “Daddy! Daddy! Where go?”