CHOCOLATE BARS

One thing that my Dad always did was bring chocolate bars home with him after being on the road for several weeks. They were usually the kind with nuts or coconut in them. Not that it mattered; the important thing was that he came home. We had an old brown polyester couch with light brown feet that sat against the wall in our living room. It was my favorite place to sit, mostly because the dog always sat there. She, like me, was waiting for Dad to come home and chose the couch because it was directly opposite the front door. Sunlight would often shine directly through the window in the front door, especially in the winter months when the sun was low in the sky, and Peanut and I would warm ourselves in it while we waited patiently on the couch for the door to open. She was very tolerant with children and I would often lay my head on her back as we waited. I would sniff the scent from the pads of her paws and feel the texture of her nose made dry from sitting in the sunlight. Often, I would gently bite her ears, growling the whole time and hoping to get a reaction out of her. She just sat, patiently, waiting. She knew Dad would be home soon.

Finally, Dad would walk in the door. He had his work clothes on and wore cowboy boots on his feet. With him he carried a suitcase and his shaving kit. I always remember my Dad being very neat and tidy. Even while at work, he wore clean clothes, shined boots, and kept his hair neatly combed and face clean shaven. I was always glad when he came home because our family seemed to regroup around him. He kept the older boys in line and made sure that we all continued to help Mom around the house. But, he also brought the chocolate bars. After greeting Dad at the door, I would grab his suitcase from his hand and rustle through it as fast as I could. He always hid the chocolate bars in the suitcase somewhere, and part of our greeting ritual involved me frantically searching for them. Once I found mine, and the three for my brothers, I would help him take off his boots while asking him question about where he had been. This special time with my Dad would sustain me until the next time he would come home from a long trip. I know that it sustained him too.

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