Daniel’s father has taken a job in the UK. Daniel has a room in my house. His father had stayed at my house prior to moving to the UK. Daniel asks if he can sleep in his father’s room. Requests are not always what they seem. Daniel spends much of Saturday moving into his father’s room, cleaning it, doing his father’s laundry, packing things his father left behind. “He’s coming back,” I say. “When?” I don’t know. We don’t know. It sounds worse somehow than it is. It is hard being a father. I understand this. Grandfather is much easier.