Not that long ago, I sat on my father's shoulders and lap. I never had to ask if he wanted me there. It was a secure place. A place where I knew I would not be allowed to fall down. I was safe from injury, safe from the bugs that could attack me, safe from being trampled by the crowds. His grasp was firm. His love unconditional. Regardless of what I did, he would be there for me.
Years passed and I remember being about eight years old; we went to a local grocery store and I insisted on wanting bing cherries. Cold bing cherries. My dad said no but I managed to stuff my mouth and pockets full of cherries. As we checked out of the grocery store, my father noticed what I had done. He asked me if I had taken the cherries. My puffed out cheeks incriminated me. My father made me confess to the store owner and he bought me the cherries.
