Dad's Home | Elizabeth Howlett

My room would hum when the garage opened

Which meant that dad was home from work.

My little feet would scurry across patched up hard-wood floors

And I would dart into a cabinet for him to find me.

When the light streamed in from the door,

I would smell the scent of his scrubs,

And the prickles on his face when he hugged and kissed me.

Then I would laugh and run away

So he could find me again.