My dad fixes things that are broken. So does my husband. Evidence: Two hours spent trying to fix my outgoing email last night. What a man! Me? I'm far more likely to throw it out and buy a new one. Why? Because I like new things? Yes, that is true. Because there is something a little magical about new things? Remember when you'd get gifts for your birthday, and it would lead to an entire bedroom clean-out because your beautiful new doll just couldn't lay in a big heap with all the one-eyed, frizzy haired uglies with the torn dresses. Which leads to cleaning out the toybox, which leads to cleaning out the closet etc. etc.
But my children are different. They treasure the things they already have and often have trouble with my logic of throw-it-away-and-get-a-new-one. That 10-cent Polly Pocket who lost her arm is simply too valuable to toss in the trash. And that's where my dad, the hero, comes in. He will fix anything, even a teeny Polly Pocket doll who has seen better days. For the love of his granddaughters, he will do it. And it will probably be better than before. He may even add a teeny necklace made out of rice or have my mom sew a pink satin pillow for her to lay her puny head.
Broken is beautiful around these parts because it reveals the love of a man for two little girls.
Joining the writers over here today for five minutes of unedited free writing in five minutes, based on the prompt: Broken. Fun!