I nervously took a step into the parlor, my heart pounding in nervousness.

Right away, I saw my father.

He was sitting on the loveseat, across from a small, dark haired man who was sitting in a flowery armchair.

Dad was speaking in a praising, proud way that wasn’t uncommon for him to use when talking about me.

Yet at the same time, there was a tight apprehension in his voice that was quite unusual for him.

The minute he noticed me he greeted,

“Hello Essie.
I’m so glad you’re home.
I hope you had a nice day at school.
Please sit down.
We have so much to talk about.”