“Hello, Daddy,” I said as we came into the room and sat on the sofa.
He didn’t even bother to adjust the reading glasses on his nose, much less look up from the Good Book. “Hello, son,” he grunted. Then, a moment later, “Hello, Alissa.”
Momma stuck her head in from the kitchen and asked, “Can I get you something to drink…a glass of sweet tea, maybe?”
“A glass of tea sounds good to me, Momma.”
“I’ll have one too,” Alissa parroted as she got up and went into the kitchen.
In those days, it was common for any woman as a guest in the house, especially family, to go into the kitchen to help another woman who might be there.
When Alissa had left the room, I looked over at Daddy and asked, “How have you been? Everything going all right?”
“Been fine,” he said, still not looking up.
“Well,”
