When She Gets Home She Will Reign Down On You

(The summer of 2013 was pretty tough on my family. My dad lost his job and was unemployed for three months (April through July), and when I graduated college in May, I had nothing lined up. I had to apply anywhere I could get some work; this ended up being the local burrito place. Dad no longer had a vehicle as his transport had been the company vehicle, and I had no car of my own, so we were heavily dependent on public transportation. Sometimes my dad would walk up to the nearby bus stop to meet me so he could get some exercise. One afternoon, I called him as I left the shop.)

Me: “Hey, Dad, you walking up to meet me today?”

Dad: “You’re a big girl, honey; I think you can manage it yourself for this time.”

Me: *rolling my eyes but not letting it come through in my voice* “Okay, then I’ll see you at home in about 90 minutes.”

(The bus ride was uneventful, but as we drove, I began to notice the sky getting more and more gray. No worries, I thought, surely I would beat the storm home. I got off the bus at the closest stop to my house (about 30 minutes by foot) — and within five minutes, the sky opened up. My purse wasn’t large enough to carry an umbrella, so I trudged home with the rain soaking me to the skin. When I got home, my father at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself.)