Back when my mother was still alive, I used to go over my parent's house for breakfast on Saturdays. It was like being in the front row of a television sitcom about bickering spouses, only with better food.
During these times, my father would always bury himself behind the morning newspaper, ignoring the world and our conversation. One morning, however, he broke with his usual routine to complain about the latest celebrity marriage du jour.
Annoyed, he said, "I just don't understand how the ugliest guys get the most beautiful wives."
My mom smiled sweetly at me, and then smiled even more sweetly at my dad.
"Thank you, honey," she told him.
Raising My Father
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JimDuchene.blogspot.com American Chimpanzee
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written for Desert Exposure Magazine
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