Ch 2.,

The next day, Daddy did come home. Grandma took a picture of us on the couch with me on his knee. I keep that picture on my dresser.

Daddy was so tired. Being on the road wore him out, and when he came back he normally spent the day rehearsing or sleeping. He’d come most alive around dinner time and right before I went to bed. We’d watch Star Trek together or paint.

This one time that Daddy came back from the road, he handed me a doll. It was a Champion bred horse that wore a tall black riding hat. I thought it was the ugliest thing in the world.

“I brought you a present from Kentucky. Do you know where that is?”

“Is it in Oklahoma?” I asked.

“No,” Daddy laughed. “But it’s close. They have lots of horses there.”

“Oh. Well, why’d you go there?” It seemed curious to me that anyone left Oklahoma for anything.

“I went to Kentucky to play my music,” Daddy said.

“Oh,” I said, still not understanding. It wasn’t that it bothered me, my dad’s touring, like I missed him or anything. It was just I didn’t understand much.

“What do you say when someone gives you a present?” Grandma Goodie asked me.

“Um, thank you,” I said to Daddy. Putting the horse close to his face, I announced that I had dreamt about riding horses.

“Was Grandpa William there?” Daddy asked.

I shook my head strongly. “No.”

Grandma and Daddy laughed. “OK.”

Getting off Daddy’s knee, I took the horse to the fireplace and stood up on the mantle as if it was a stage. Jumping down, I said, “I could FLY!”

Though the mantle was only a foot off the floor, Grandma automatically began to yell at me. “Hey, calm down!” Daddy told her. She didn’t calm down.

Turning to me, Daddy said, “Just don’t do that, OK? It’s dangerous.”

Grandma and Daddy began to argue, over what I couldn’t tell.

Used to this, I stood up off my spot on the floor, took my new doll, and went into my room. I played cassette tapes over the fighting. The yelling didn’t bother me. I was immune. It seemed this was just something to do, playing music over the voices.

What I didn’t know then and didn’t for a long time, was that Grandma was on Prednisone for her athsma. She’d pick fights all the time and go crazy. Dad tried his best to calm her down, but usually to no avail.

A few minutes later, the fighting stopped, but I couldn’t tell. Snow White kept singing to the seven dwarves and Tinker Bell kept chiming for me to flip the cassette over.