Becky Hand
Nutri Grains

There’s a moment when you realize that your parents aren’t superheroes,
And it’s around the same time that you start making a conscious effort not to pick up their flaws
But you look back on when you were younger, when your Dad was the strongest man in the world
The fun-maker, the man who would teach you how to cycle,
And never ever get angry at how, just like your mother, you had no coordination
We would plan whole menus, dress in costumes and play music from the culinary country we were embarking on that day
Greet my mother with dish upon dish of burnt rice, raw pastry or chili heavy soups

I would climb into his lap and it would be like finding solace at the top of a mountain When it rained, he’d cover my entire head with the bottom of his raincoat
And we would walk like a four legged, half blind indestructible beast
When I refused to eat breakfast – as I still often do
He’d make it an adventure, a quest for the particular Nutri Grain bar that I liked
And a visit to our favourite shopkeeper, who would sometimes give it to us for free

This was a running theme,
The bakery on Ebrington Street, long gone now,
Would give us bags of rock cakes at the end of the day
And the ladies in the Student’s Union would feed us piles of hash browns,
Charmed by my Dad’s Dublin accent and big green eyed grin
Which has only become more charming with age
We were like Bill and Curly Sue – unbreakable, mischievous and always laughing Always always laughing, as we still do now
It doesn’t matter how mad we make each other, or how big our fights are
One sly comment from my Dad and I’m doubled over, filling the room with my big ridiculous laugh

As always, life happened, and divorce happened, and my Dad returned to his home.
On the other side of the Irish Sea, he got sober, got happy and got used to missing me
He’s now spent half of my life living in a different country
And he’s kept me in his head as a 13 year old, who mustn’t talk to strangers,
Will always burn her bagels, and can’t make her own tea
And it’s hard, a kind of strange numb feeling always in the back of my mind
That we’ll never be that same, indestructible beast
But we’ve got those bike rides, those Nutri Grains and the raw pastry
And those memories belong to us, only him and me