Raised in a fatherless home, my father was extremely tightfisted towards us children. His attitude didn’t soften as I grew into adulthood and went to college. I had to ride the bus whenever I came home. Though the bus stopped about two miles from home, Dad never met me, even in severe weather. If I grumbled, he’d say in his loudest father-voice, “That’s what your legs are for!”
The walk didn’t bother me as much as the fear of walking alone along the highway and country roads. I also felt less than valued that my father didn’t seem concerned about my safety. But that feeling was canceled one spring evening.
It had been a particularly difficult week at college after long hours in labs. I longed for home. When the bus reached the stop, I stepped off and dragged my suitcase to begin the long journey home.