"Your injection is in the morning," my father reiterated as he stepped through the threshold of the door to my house for tonight's medication ritual.
"Call me 8 AM to make sure I am up and going," I told my father as we sat down in my den. "I also need to get a load of laundry going tonight as well."
"Try to curtail the homeless look," my father said carefully so as to not hurt my feelings.
"I was over at your house a few hours ago," I then told my father. "But I couldn't get anyone to the door. All three cars were there, though."
"I was probably taking a nap or pulling a Martha," my father smiled warmly as he spoke to me. "I didn't mean to miss you."
"I wanted some more of those absolutely delicious Minute Maid lemonades in the icebox downstairs,"
"Oh!" my father abruptly said standing up quickly while handing me my pill pack. "I've got you a big ass Tupperware container of my pork-chops and rice in the car. I better go get it before I forget it."
Ah Bless!
I was so outstandingly glad and relieved when I saw my father arrive with my six colas for the day. I am going to completely savor them in another half hour of chilling in the freezer.
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