A Daily Thing

When I miss my family I unintentionally take turns: I focus on someone specific and without even trying I am flooded by memories of all their little quirks and habits.

This morning, it’s my father’s turn.  Exhibit A: he has a winter driving outfit which consists of a cap like this, gloves and a scarf.  For the record he drives a little Twingo which I find irresistibly funny.

His idea of waking us up in the morning as children was to open the door and whistle the same tune played in army barracks at sunrise (the aptly named Réveille).  To this day when I hear it, I always picture my father’s silhouette in the door and smile.

He makes really obvious and daggy jokes, over and over again.  If you are looking for something he will say: ‘Whoever looks for something, finds it.’ (‘Qui cherche, trouve’).  If he hears a few knocks in a row (say you’re using a a hammer), it’s ‘Come in!’.  Every time.

He loves to go to the food market (right next to the town hall), and as it happened the market was on the day Christian and I got married.  My father disappeared for 15 minutes, and when I asked him where he went he said: ‘I had to go tell the lady I buy my salads from you just got married.’  Cute.

And finally, and I don’t really know why, his name is Jacques and it cracks me up.  And today, I really miss him.

(Hat is from here)