There was a sensitive side of my father I'd never seen before, and I guess he felt it when he saw one of his children upset. Reminds him of the days when my sister Christina and I were little and we couldnt stop crying when our mother  passed away. I was nine she was eight and we were blessed with a three month old sister. Our father was so devistated and was always helping up when we were down. Most sorrowful year of my life. May 18, 1967.
I woke up the next morning (my pillow with wet spots from my tears) breakfast was made and everybody was downstairs. " Good morning, Jen," she felt my forehead and then handed me my eggs.
" Morning." I responded dryly, my eyes still watery. I went to the bottom room, where I eat when I wanna be alone.
But when I got down there, there was dad. I froze.
" Jeni, I need to talk to you."
" What." I said quickly.
" I apologise about the way I treated you last night. The yelling, screaming....."
I crossed my arms and listened to him.
" And I understand that you are seventeen years old, soon you'll be twenty. Its hard for me to believe that you are growing up so fast." he cleared his throat and took a deep breath.
" But why dad? Why do you have to be so hard on me? You're never hard on Chris! I just wanted to know what it was like to be in love."
" I'm hard on you because I expect more in you!" he raised his voice. He sighed, " But I do listen to you, if you think differently its not true. And Zola and I talked last night. She was upset with me and concerned about you......and..."
he stopped for a second.
" What? Dad what?"
" Go ahead and date this boy." he said, trying to put a smile on my face.
I smiled.
" But I want you to bring him over, I want to meet this boy you love so much."
" Thank you, Dad." I gave him a hug. He chuckled, the way he did when I hugged him when I was little.

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