Lightnin' Strikes

Emily's daddy stayed home on Sunday morning while her mother took Emily to church. Emily tried to listen to the priest, tried to track the notes in the hymnal as the voices rose and fell around her, but she kept thinking about her daddy.

What did he do at home without them? Did he prefer being alone? Did he miss them? Why couldn't she stay home with him? What would they do together if she stayed?

The service consisted of sitting, standing, kneeling, walking to the altar for communion, shaking hands, praying, and kneeling some more. Emily willed her thick tights to stay in place, but they always worked their way down her hips and twisted around her ankles.

By the time church ended, Emily was more than ready to go home and change into play clothes, but her mother stopped to talk with other patrons in the courtyard. Emily stood tall and tried not to wiggle so her mother wouldn't scold her.

Finally, finally! They got in the car and drove home. Emily could see the kitchen light shining through the blinds, and when she ran through the front door - sure enough, there was her daddy at the stove. 

He was singing in a high falsetto, flipping french toast in time with the music. Emily stood watching him, listening to the song, until she could imagine herself helping him cook, singing along, instead of wasting time standingsittingkneeling at church.

Her daddy flipped the last piece onto a plate piled high and handed it to Emily. He whistled along to the end of the song and followed her to the kitchen table, where they sat down with her mother and began to eat.

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