Okay, Ray Bradbury is not ACTUALLY my dad, he is more or less my “writing dad”.
Dad taught me that childhood is a magical time. A time full of wonder, mystery, and a little bit of terror. A magical place where adulthood (and sometimes monsters) are right around the corner, ready to ruin everything.
I love my dad, but I am NOT my dad. I appreciate his love for childhood and nostalgia, but I don’t believe in letting it go. I don’t want childhood to be something you have, then put it in a box in the back of the closet to take out and look at once in a while. Childhood, to me, is something to fight for, to hold onto as long as possible, and to carry with you well into old age.
So that’s my dad. Tomorrow we will talk about dear old mum!