Dad would always make fun of me when I sat at it. He’d laugh and ask what I was up to. He’d worry me by calling out to mum.

“Love! She’s sitting at your machine! “

then he’d look at me and smile. I’d be frowning back at him. “She think it’s hers now love!” I’d laugh and say “she doesn’t use it anyways.”
Dad was always curious. He was like a child. A beautiful curiosity and urge to help. It was irritating, at times, cause he corrected me and my ways.
But it was warm and loving and kind.
I miss him.

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