Father was a man to lean on; organised and self-assured he would always be there, wearing his horn-rimmed glasses, standing straight.
So it was a pity when the President spotted him while visiting the Foreign Ministry. After that, father‘s horn-rimmed glasses became a permanent fixture in every newspaper, standing behind the President.
It became a joke though, whispered amid mouthfuls of sake. And when the President’s death followed father’s, the joke was made permanent. There is the president now, in the square reaching out for father. But father’s bespectacled statue is in my garden, standing straight only for me.
Friday Fictioneers again with this beautiful picture by David Stewart. It took me a while to cut down this story to 100 words, but it is now actually down to 99. Me is happy.
Oh and Happy Valentine’s everyone!