As soon as the bell rings and storm our three daughters, I am suddenly no longer a father, but a set piece. The jackets fly over the chair, there is laughter, cackling, and before I know it, woman and daughters form a holy circle of words, plans and stories. Occasionally I try to joke or give an opinion, but it disappears like a drop in the ocean. Yet I like to see: that warm gathering, that endless chatter. Only my wife says, when they are gone again: “You were quiet today.”
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