 But I waited to see my father each night. And when I heard my father coming into the house, humming a tune as he opened the front door, I knew he was home. And I would run, exclaim, Abba, and jump into his arms. And he would pick me up and he would sit down for supper and just join together. And now that I'm a father myself, I appreciate the incredible effort it must have taken him to smile, to be interested in my stories, to listen. Years have passed and I still strain to remember those memories of my childhood. Thankfully, my father is with me