My Father

It is dark. All is quiet except for the squeaks and cracks of this 19th century house sinking into the foundation of the ground. I open my eyes and it is still dark. I reach out my right arm in hopes that my hand will find the button on my petite lamp. A soft glow illuminates my room. I sit up and strain to hear the soft voices coming from the television down the hall. …

…the worst. This is the longest moment of my life. It's amazing how much can run through your mind in one instant. I just looked at him. His dark brown hair was slicked back. I looked at those couple of gray hairs he had in his goatee that we would always make fun of him for. Then I looked into his dark brown eyes. And even though his hand was raised, I still loved him.