They say a picture is worth a thousand words. It was the summer of 1955 and Mom was off to Disneyland with the church choir to perform for several days. Of course, I’d be staying with Dad while she was gone, and that most certainly had the makings of a picnic in the park. I didn’t wear any of the clothes that Mom laid out for me but instead selected my own. Nothing matched. Dad didn’t even care that I wore my black Sunday school shoes, lace-trimmed socks, red flowered shorts, and an orange striped T-shirt–every day–for a week. Best of all, he didn’t even mind that I played with Marie who was four grades ahead of me and several inches taller. We also ate different things, like hotdogs and root beer floats from Fosters Freeze instead of food cooked in the kitchen. Bedtime was falling asleep on the sofa while watching Gunsmoke and Wyatt Earp. Baths were few and far between. As fate would have it, my vacation was short-lived, and when Mom got home, I was ushered straight to the bathtub. My shorts, T-shirt, underwear, and lace socks went equally as fast to the laundry room. In no time, my hair was washed, curled, and pulled back with matching barrettes. My clothes were once again color-coordinated. The aroma of fried chicken and biscuits wafted from the kitchen. Mom was back, and with her return came the warm feeling of life the way it was supposed to be. ~ D. L. Norris