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Show house/ 457 "We'll be happy, Mama." "I'm sure you w i l l be, d a r l i n g . You'll do j u s t f i n e ." I turned back to my f a t h e r , but he was l a y i n g out the cards again, so I picked up my car keys and said goodnight. I would drive back to the apartment and pack my t h i n g s . I irould leave during the night so t h a t the apartment manager wouldn't harrass me about giving a two-week n o t i c e . I made a mental note to telephone the jewelry s t o r e on Monday and realized that i t would only be a week since I was t h e r e . It seemed years ago, and yet was a l l p a r t of t h i s moment, part of a glittering f u t u r e , caught on my hand as I eased the s t e e r i ng wheel. As I drove onto the freeway with white l i g h t s guiding me through the darkness s t r e t c h i n g ahead, I sang out to my father what I could not bring myself to t e l l him, what he would not hears "Thank you, Daddy, thank you for s e t t i n g me f r e e ." And despite the sharpening sense of paradox, I added, "And thank you most of a l l , for l e t t i n g me come home." |