“Penny-farthing!” Tom shouts, looking out the window.
“It’s a bicycle Grandad,” quips Martin – stressing each syllable, looking up an instant from his Lego.
“Shhhh – Martin,” Maria chides, unfolding a handkerchief and going across to her Dad.
“Penny-farthing,” repeats Tom, stressing the P and the F.
Maria reaches down and delicately wipes some dribble from the corner of his mouth then slowly passes her fingers through his soft, silver hair.
He looks up, and turns his head towards the window. “Penny-farthing?” He pleads.
“Ok Daddy,” she replies closing the window.
He seems so frail and his feet rest awkwardly on the footrests of the wheelchair. She stoops to align them, lifting each foot in turn; gently cradling the weight of each leg under the knee.
She looks at Martin, still playing silently on the rug then back over to her Dad who catches her eye. His face lightens and relaxes, exposing fleetingly a glimpse of the wonderful Dad he had been.
“Penny-farthing,” he whispers, holding her gaze intently.
“I love you too,” she replies softly, warm tears escaping effortlessly.
This is this weeks Sunday Photo Fiction.