Franziska is in Utrecht with a friend. I'm outside with Sam, planting the hedera climbing plants against our garden's fence. Warm rays of sunlight tempt me to take off my coat, to make the work more practical. I hold a cup with little steel hooks in my hand.
"Sam, can you hand me the hammer?" I say.
"Hammer. Hammer!" he says.
"It's lovely weather, isn't it?" I say.
"Hammer!" he says.
I take one of the hooks and lead the plant's tranche through it so it will grow in the right direction.
"Can you hand me another hook?" I say.
"Hammer!" he says, while giving me a handful of hooks.
"Thank you sweety." I say.
We work together for over an hour, and all the winter's stress falls off my shoulders. I dig the last hole for the last plant.
"Shovel." he says.
Together we carefully water the new plants.
"Papa?" he says.
"Yes?" I say.
"Papa." he says.
We go inside. Papa, I think.
Papa. That's me.
It's really me.
From day to day time doesn't change anything.
Take a handful of days and still nothing has changed.
Then take a couple of those handfuls and suddenly everything is different.
How does this happen? Time can be a fantastic thing.
I don't have a lot to say today.
I just wanted to wish you a good day.
A happy springtime.
A lovely year.
A wonderful life.