For My Dad

My dear father was always outnumbered by the women in the house, and so the responsibilities of insect eradication fell primarily on him. One evening in the summer, there was a beetle on the deck so huge that none of us females would dare go near it. Since we kids had a habit of playing pranks with plastic insects around that time, my father assumed the beetle was fake. He kneeled down, stretched his hand toward it, and was on the verge of picking it up before it sensed danger and scurried away. My father leaped backwards like a cat. It was the only time I ever heard him scream like a girl.

We miss you, Dad. Every day.