quiet, but confident.
Blaring music jolts me awake. I reach across my nightstand, fumbling to find a button—any button—that will shut off the alarm. The music abruptly stops. I open my eyes and blink a few times. The dream was so real I half expect a Nazi soldier to walk through my bedroom door. I close my eyes and can still see Dimitri’s face. I lay there for a few minutes concentrating on that face. That beautiful face.
Unfortunately, the day won’t wait. It’s Saturday and I have a long to-do list.
I drag myself out of bed, shower, dress, and trudge upstairs to get something to eat while my hair dries. My dad is sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast and reading the newspaper.
“Hey, Ronnie, what’s happening?”
I give him a kiss and a hug. “Morning, Dad. Not much.”
Mom must have been up early this morning. The aroma of cinnamon rolls fills the kitchen. The pan is on table in front of my dad and all but two are gone. I slide the pan over and, not bothering with a fork, dive right in with my fingers. Some foods are more satisfying when eaten with your hands. The rolls are still warm, each bite is flaky dough infused with cinnamon and vanilla, topped with sticky, sugary, cream cheese frosting. There’s a reason they call this type of deliciousness comfort food. It’s bliss. Have I mentioned how much I love my mom?
Dad folds the newspaper in half and tosses it to the other side of the table. “So, how was the first week of school?”
“Good, really good. Looks like calculus isn’t going to be as hard as I’d imagined, at least not yet. Besides, John’s in my class so I know where I can get a good tutor if I need one.”
My dad smiles. “That John’s a pretty smart kid, but I bet you’ll do just fine on your own. You’ll probably be tutoring him by the end of the semester.”
“John is a genius, Dad. I, on the other hand, apply myself to the best of my abilities. I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but that’s a fairly distinct and far-reaching difference. His brain is epic. Mine is functional.”
“Functional and funny,” he teases.
I laugh. “Aha, and there’s the rub.” I’m quiet while I take a few more bites of the heavenly cinnamon rolls. “So, how was your week? Mom said you ended up in Chicago?”
“It was a pretty good week. A few bad storms out east, but that’s what makes it fun.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Yeah, whatever. You do realize that you are the only person on the planet who actually enjoys driving in bad weather, don’t you?”
My dad is unique, and I mean that in the best possible way. He’s opinionated and stubborn, but also equally kind and generous. He’s very smart, though he barely graduated high school. I suspect a strong mix of boredom and a lack of interest were to blame for his poor grades. He takes a common sense approach to life and works harder than anyone else I’ve ever known. He’s a perfectionist in every sense of the word. (The amount of time he spends doing and re-doing drives me insane. I’m critical of myself, but I’m a do-your-absolute-best-the first-and-only-time type of girl.) He has an amazing sense of humor that gets quite juvenile at times and embarrasses my mom to death. But, most of all he’s a great role model and, along with my mom, my biggest fan and supporter.
He laughs too. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”
“I need to meet Piper and the homecoming planning committee at eight o’clock this morning at school, but it should only take an hour or two, and then I’m going to the library. I need a book to get started on a report for English.”
“How is the Pied Piper?”
“Same. Wonderful. She’s Piper, need I say more?” Because she really is pretty wonderful and my dad knows it. Of all my friends she’s always been one of his favorites. She lives just down the street from us and we’ve been friends since her family moved here when we were both in seventh grade.
He smiles.
Blaring music jolts me awake. I reach across my nightstand, fumbling to find a button—any button—that will shut off the alarm. The music abruptly stops. I open my eyes and blink a few times. The dream was so real I half expect a Nazi soldier to walk through my bedroom door. I close my eyes and can still see Dimitri’s face. I lay there for a few minutes concentrating on that face. That beautiful face.
Unfortunately, the day won’t wait. It’s Saturday and I have a long to-do list.
I drag myself out of bed, shower, dress, and trudge upstairs to get something to eat while my hair dries. My dad is sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast and reading the newspaper.
“Hey, Ronnie, what’s happening?”
I give him a kiss and a hug. “Morning, Dad. Not much.”
Mom must have been up early this morning. The aroma of cinnamon rolls fills the kitchen. The pan is on table in front of my dad and all but two are gone. I slide the pan over and, not bothering with a fork, dive right in with my fingers. Some foods are more satisfying when eaten with your hands. The rolls are still warm, each bite is flaky dough infused with cinnamon and vanilla, topped with sticky, sugary, cream cheese frosting. There’s a reason they call this type of deliciousness comfort food. It’s bliss. Have I mentioned how much I love my mom?
Dad folds the newspaper in half and tosses it to the other side of the table. “So, how was the first week of school?”
“Good, really good. Looks like calculus isn’t going to be as hard as I’d imagined, at least not yet. Besides, John’s in my class so I know where I can get a good tutor if I need one.”
My dad smiles. “That John’s a pretty smart kid, but I bet you’ll do just fine on your own. You’ll probably be tutoring him by the end of the semester.”
“John is a genius, Dad. I, on the other hand, apply myself to the best of my abilities. I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but that’s a fairly distinct and far-reaching difference. His brain is epic. Mine is functional.”
“Functional and funny,” he teases.
I laugh. “Aha, and there’s the rub.” I’m quiet while I take a few more bites of the heavenly cinnamon rolls. “So, how was your week? Mom said you ended up in Chicago?”
“It was a pretty good week. A few bad storms out east, but that’s what makes it fun.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Yeah, whatever. You do realize that you are the only person on the planet who actually enjoys driving in bad weather, don’t you?”
My dad is unique, and I mean that in the best possible way. He’s opinionated and stubborn, but also equally kind and generous. He’s very smart, though he barely graduated high school. I suspect a strong mix of boredom and a lack of interest were to blame for his poor grades. He takes a common sense approach to life and works harder than anyone else I’ve ever known. He’s a perfectionist in every sense of the word. (The amount of time he spends doing and re-doing drives me insane. I’m critical of myself, but I’m a do-your-absolute-best-the first-and-only-time type of girl.) He has an amazing sense of humor that gets quite juvenile at times and embarrasses my mom to death. But, most of all he’s a great role model and, along with my mom, my biggest fan and supporter.
He laughs too. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”
“I need to meet Piper and the homecoming planning committee at eight o’clock this morning at school, but it should only take an hour or two, and then I’m going to the library. I need a book to get started on a report for English.”
“How is the Pied Piper?”
“Same. Wonderful. She’s Piper, need I say more?” Because she really is pretty wonderful and my dad knows it. Of all my friends she’s always been one of his favorites. She lives just down the street from us and we’ve been friends since her family moved here when we were both in seventh grade.
He smiles.
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