We know about Mother Goose and her fairy tales and nursery rhymes, but what do we know of Father Goose?
Some say that he died in the war.
Others say that he drank a lot, and he drowned in the river.
But we, her kids, know the truth.
“This is your Uncle Goose,” Mother would say, as she led yet another John to her bedroom.
Sometimes, we heard her crying at night.
We’d ask if she was okay, and she’d tell stories about magical places and amazing adventures.
Just to escape for a little while.
For us. And her, too.
2 thoughts on “Father Goose”
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I am both traumatised and highly entertained by this story.
Yay!