A family? Yes. I have one. One son is dead, another is somewhat less than sane. (Something whispers in my ear that I failed them both.) There is a daughter, sober, who also has a daughter; the little one is a delight and commands more magic than the rest of us put together. And my wife still puts up with me. Can you imagine? Married to the most minor of poets! Poor dear.
Family, come and bring the mops! I will pour the soapy water on the floor, the same old floor as always, and together we shall begin to mop.
10 May 2020