Father wished to celebrate his success. It was
only a delivery job, the pay was nothing special,
but it meant something. We would have a lavish
take-away, with ice cream for dessert. This
sounded exceedingly good. As we sat at the
kitchen table with deluxe prawn and anchovy
pizzas, Father explained how his job entailed
leaving early and driving a van. He’d try not to
clatter in the mornings, so I could sleep on.
I congratulated him. Playfully, Father boxed
me around the ears. I found this incredibly
affectionate. Our relationship, since Mother’s
passing, had grown positively warm. When it
was time for bed, Father even wished me a good
sleep. I cantered upstairs, full of new hope. Like
other boys, my Dad would be my rock. I liked this
novel idea very much.


Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist