The author recalls his

One of his first memories was of his father bending down from his great height to sweep him up into the air. Up he went, gasping and laughing with delight. He could look down on his mother"s upturned face as she watched, laughing with them, and at the thick stock of his father's black hair and at his white teeth. Then he would come down, shrieking happily, but he was never afraid, not with his father's hand holding him. No one in the world was as big, or as wise, as his father. His father moved the heavy wooden cupboard across the room. He watched while they guided it into its new position,... Show more

One of his first memories was of his father bending down from his great height to sweep him up into the air. Up he went, gasping and laughing with delight. He could look down on his mother"s upturned face as she watched, laughing with them, and at the thick stock of his father's black hair and at his white teeth.
Then he would come down, shrieking happily, but he was never afraid, not with his father's hand holding him. No one in the world was as big, or as wise, as his father.
His father moved the heavy wooden cupboard across the room. He watched while they guided it into its new position, and he saw the difference in their hands as they rested, side by side, his mother's hands were white and slim and delicate, his father"s large and square and strong. And then he went to school.
And on the playground he learned how to wrestle and shout, how to hold back tears.
And still he grew-taller, slimmer, stronger. (172 words)

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