My father enjoyed cooking. Not only was it a second job for him that helped to pay the family;s bills for us, but it was also a laobor of love. My mom would sometimes acknowledge his leadership in the kitchen and explain various dishes he taught her to prepare.
One of the favorite moments I enjoyed with him in the brief period I shared with him was meeting him when he would come home from work. Yes it was midnight or a few minutes thereafter, but he was always loaded with delicious leftovers from his chef's job. The turning of the key in the door lock, the subsequent turning of the door handle, and the sound of the door opening was the alarm sequence that woke me up many times late into the night.
I would jump up out of bed and run into the kitchen to greet him. There he sat at the dinner table unloading his foiled wrap bunch of goodies inviting me to join him. He absolutely loved me, and this moment was the private time that he and I shared when I felt that love like no other moment.
As he opened up the foiled mass of tender meats, my smiled widened in anticipation of getting a taste of this delicious treat. I don't remember a lot of words but just smiles and grins between the two of us. And his big rugged hand touching the top of my head. That moment defined for me how my father loved me for all of my life.
Happy Father's Day to all of the great dads here on AR!
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