My dad was full of mischief. At times he brought it out in all of us. Once when he was watering plants in front of our house, my mom opened the door. He spun around and squirted her, soaking the bookshelves inside. She, of course, had to retaliate, so she stole up the stairs to an open window and dumped a bucket of water on his head.
We were a close family, not just because of the fun, but also because we spent a lot of time working together in my parents' grocery store. I have lots of wonderful memories from my childhood. Mostly, I remember the love.
Early in my adult life, things changed dramatically when my mother passed on. She had been the backbone of the family, supporting all of our endeavors and proffering advice on various challenges that my sister and I had faced in our young lives. Several months later, my sister married and moved out. I stayed in my dad's home during the next couple of years to help him find his footing. At the end of that time, he remarried.
