感恩能与父亲多一天
My daughter and I hurried home from an evening party. My dad had fallen ill and was unable to go there. Although he’d promised not to go down the stairs while we were gone, I couldn’t help worrying about my 74-year-old father.
We went up the stairs in a hurry, expecting to find my dad sleeping soundly, but his bed was empty. My child knew what she saw wasn’t good. “Mom, where’s Paw Paw?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,” I said, forcing myself to calm down though I felt in fact worried. “Why don’t you go to your bedroom and put on your coat while I look for Paw Paw?” I suggested. Then I hurried down the stairs.
I immediately noticed the front door wasn’t locked, which wasn’t how we left it. I got out and quickly searched the street and yard but saw no sign of him. So I returned to the house and searched every room, but I failed again. My eyes began to water. But I knew this was no time to cry. I willed myself to stay calm, and that was when it hit me. The place where my dad always liked to sit was the back porch. Even on the hottest afternoons, he would sit there.
I ran to the backdoor and there sat my dad. My hand quickly reached for the door handle, but I didn’t turn it. I just stood there, feeling thankful for one more day with my dad.