Eerily Quiet Tonight the Papas Be...

Dad pulled up in front of the house about 9 PM and I walked out to help him carry everything inside. As I had expected, his hands were full. He had a Big Mac value meal, a Mickey D's Coke, my 6 nightly sodas, and my MedPAC of medications.

"How is my son doing?" he asked me as we walked across my yard now with both of our hands full.

"You know? I really can't complain," I replied. "It's been a pretty good day."

"Now, Y'all get your butts in here. In Home! I've been worried all day about you Papa," Maggie seemed to be imparting with her urgent barking and busily wagging tail.

"Are you okay?" I asked my father as we then sat on the couch taking my medications.

I usually get uneasy when my father is so quiet. It usually means I have committed some form of faux pas upon him or us. He just sat there patting me on my knee. He is usually a very, very talkative fellow.

"Oh, I am fine," my father said with a goodhearted tone to his voice. "I am just getting too old to orchestrate those grand cookouts any longer. It just wears me out. I slept all afternoon after the grand-kids left."