3 comments/ 15368 views/ 1 favorites Chocolate Covered Cherries By: Desdmona In sixth grade on Valentine's Day, I got a valentine from Ritson Smart. Only it wasn't just a valentine, it also had a stick of gum, Fruity Stripes--the cherry one. We weren't allowed to chew gum at school, so I had to put it away for later. When it came time to compare our valentines, we girls sneaked to a hidden alcove in the bathroom. We called it the Bippy Corner. Whenever there was something special to share, we would cram ourselves in. It was important to be one of the first to the bathroom to get the best spot. That February fourteenth, as we huddled in the Bippy Corner, we learned that Curt Turner had given everyone heart candies that said things like, "Be Mine," "Yes Dear," or "True Love." And Matt Hodapp had given Kim Ferguson an adult valentine, not one from the department store packs, but a card store valentine. All of us ooh'd and ahh'd and felt a twinge of jealousy even though it wasn't much of a surprise. Two weeks before, at morning recess, Matt and Kim had professed their liking for each other. When it was my turn to share, I hesitated. I wasn't sure how a red-striped stick of gum would compare to a fancy card from Hallmark. But the girls crooned their encouragement, and I pulled out the stick of gum. There was a moment of silence, a reverent moment like we'd just unearthed the Shroud of Turin. And then the chatter started. "No one else got gum." "Ritson must like you." "Do you like him?" And from Kim: "It's just a stick of gum, it's not even the whole pack." Of course she was right, and everyone was silent again until Terri Fisher said, "Yeah, but it's the red piece. Everyone knows the red piece is the best one." Terri Fisher had been my best friend for two months, ever since we discovered we were the only two girls brave enough to do the flip-over move on the horizontal monkey bars. It was a scary move when you were eleven. You had to trust your arms would be strong enough to hold you. You laid flat on the top of the bar, reached under, grabbed the bars your belly rested on, and then rolled off the bars in a sort of somersault move while still holding the bars. It wasn't considered successful unless you could hang with your feet dangling above the ground for five seconds after the flip. And in the bathroom that day, Terri Fisher proved once again how brave she could be. It was very risky to go against anyone who had a two-week relationship going. Kim had been our heroine, the girl we all wished we could be, for more than a week. But Terri had faced up to her. Later, when we were back in class, I couldn't help but glance at Ritson. He looked the same as always--blond shaggy hair, brown eyes, and two light brown moles on his left cheek--but suddenly he was the cutest boy in the whole world. He caught me looking at him, and I thought I would die sitting right there in Mrs. Wisecup's class. My cheeks burned and my sweaty palms could barely hold my pencil. And then he smiled. Not a huge show-all-your-teeth-smile but a half-smile that still caused his eyes to crinkle. My belly shuddered like I'd just gone over the hill of a roller coaster. At afternoon recess, Terri Fisher and I were back on top the monkey bar. We elaborated on the flip-over move, by adding a song. "On a high tin roof Del Gato sat..." When the song called for the cat, Del Gato, to tumble off the high tin roof, Terri and I would do the flip-overs. We didn't have a huge audience, but a few kids stood around, and we performed for them. As we were belting out, "meow meow meow" for the third time, a group of girls, led by Kim Ferguson (Kim was the leader in most ranks) marched to the monkey bars. "Ritson Smart likes you." This came from Kim, only she said it in a way that led you to believe it wasn't a happy proclamation. I wanted to ignore her, but then I remembered how my belly felt in class when Ritson smiled at me, sort of like doing a flip-over. I couldn't resist answering. "How do you know?" Kim looked around. I was sure it was to see if she had everyone's attention before proceeding. When she was satisfied, she said, "Because I asked him." The crowd gasped. Kim Ferguson had just done something no one had dared to do before. That kind of information was saved for secret notes or second hand news from other boys. But I wasn't impressed. I was embarrassed. Now instead of covert glances in a classroom, Ritson and I would be placed under the tightest scrutiny. Boys would watch Ritson. Girls would watch me. And all to see if either of us gave away some hint of affection. And while my heart screamed, "He likes me!" the unwelcome attention and embarrassment made me say "So?" Kim harrumphed and then turned, with gang in tow and went straight to Ritson who was playing football with the boys. Terri howled out the next line, "He went there to read a letter, meow meow meow, where the reading light was better, meow meow meow..." The few kids that had been watching our performance drifted away until it was just Terri and me for the flip-over finale. When recess was over and we were lining up to go back inside, I stole a glance at Ritson. He looked at me for a brief second and then quickly looked away. No smile. No crinkly eyes. Two days later, Kim Ferguson and Matt Hodapp broke up because Kim had a new boyfriend: Ritson Smart. * * * When I was seventeen and Valentine's Day rolled around, I had a steady boyfriend, Woody Hall. Woody and I were both in the High School band. He was a senior and played drum. I was a junior and played clarinet. Our relationship started on a Friday night in October. The band was traveling to an away football game, and I was running late. I parked my car and sprinted to the bus. Mr. Foiles was standing at the top of the bus steps as I hurried to climb aboard. He waited until I was standing at the top of the steps and then yelled. "It's very inconsiderate of you to keep everyone waiting!" I wanted to find a seat and sink into oblivion, so I slumped into the first available spot. Woody Hall was the other occupant. At first, we sat mute, afraid to draw more attention our way. But by the time ten minutes passed, the bus still hadn't moved, and conversations popped up all over. Woody leaned over and whispered. "Mr. Foiles is such an old fogy." And I smiled. Woody's shoulder touched mine for the entire trip, and I learned to love the combined smell of Brute cologne and Dentyne gum. After the game, when it came time to load back onto the bus, Woody asked if I'd sit next to him on our way home. I hurried to tell Terri Fisher, and we both giggled with excitement. His shoulder didn't lean against me on the return trip and his Brute had been washed away by the cool night breeze, but twice Woody's thigh bumped against mine, and by the third time, he didn't bother to move it away. Because Woody and I were in different grades, we didn't see much of each other during school hours. But every Friday we sat together on the bus or in the stands at the football game. At one especially close game, our mighty Bucs scored a late quarter touchdown that gave us the lead. The bleachers were filled with hundreds of ecstatic fans. Woody and I were among them. In the thrill of the excitement, Woody hugged me to him and kissed me. His lips were dry and cold, and they only touched mine for milliseconds, but I was warm the rest of the night. When football season was over, Woody and I still spent Friday nights together at the movies, or the arcade. I played Centipede; Woody played foosball. Or we'd stay at my house with my parents and watch "The Odd Couple" and "Love American Style." When we were alone, Woody would hold my hand and kiss me over and over--warm, moist kisses that were nothing like the kiss at the football game. On Valentine's Day, Woody made special plans for dinner. When he picked me up, he was dressed in gray corduroy Levi's and a buttoned- down shirt that was open at the collar. He handed me a heart- shaped box full of chocolate covered mints, creams, and cherries and told me how much he liked my burgundy wrap- around dress. I tipped up to kiss him above his open collar and inhaled the woodsy smell of Brute. Dinner was two towns away at the Carousel. The restaurant set high atop a hotel and revolved, so the view during your meal alternated from city lights to distant mountains. There was no menu. Instead, the waiter recited the selections. When he'd finished, I wasn't sure what to order. He resented my hesitation and brusquely told me they didn't serve hotdogs. I ordered shrimp. Woody said he wished we were old enough to order wine, but I wasn't disappointed. Being alone with Woody in a different city and sharing the magnificent view with him was intoxicating enough. That night when Woody parked in front of my house, his kisses turned hot. His hands fumbled over my body and when he first touched my breast, I shivered in shock. Everything seemed to stop, like someone had lifted the arm of the phonograph. Our lips were still together, but our tongues didn't move. And neither did his hand. When I tried to breathe, my breast pushed against Woody's hand, heavy and warm. He finally squeezed, and I moaned. The record started playing again. He squeezed harder, and our tongues tried to get deeper. My heart pounded so hard, I was sure Woody could feel it beneath his hand. By the time the porch light flashed on, Woody had worked his way inside the vee of my dress and was teasing the soft cotton of my bra. We separated fast. Flustered, I jumped out of the car and forgot to say "Goodnight." Dad didn’t say a word when I immediately went to my room. I lay in bed, thinking of Woody and how he had touched me. I fumbled with my breast, hoping to evoke the same feeling as Woody's hand. Our annual Sadie Hawkins celebration was the following week at school. Even though it wasn't a leap year, our school liked celebrating. It was nearly spring, and spring was a time for new beginnings--a time when a girl got the chance to ask out a boy, and by custom, he couldn't say no. So it became a tradition at Mercer High to celebrate Sadie Hawkins even if there wasn't a February twenty-ninth. I thought for a long time before I decided how I would ask Woody. Instead of asking him outright, I'd send him a note. The note was childish, but it was meant to be. Woody Hall Will you go to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with me? Circle Yes. I slipped the note into Woody's locker between second period chemistry and third period algebra. I knew Woody would be going to his locker right after fourth period. By seventh period, I still hadn't got the note back. I didn't worry too much. But when Woody wasn't waiting for me after school, my heart did a flip-flop. He'd met me every day since the football season. At home, when I was watching Brady Bunch reruns, the phone rang. My mother picked up and seconds later yelled, "It's Woody." I should have felt relief, but all I felt was dread. My mouth was dry, dry and cold like a chilly October night. "I didn't know how to tell you," he said. He'd already been asked to the dance. Kim Ferguson and Woody shared third year Spanish fifth period. And Kim had asked Woody in front of the whole class. She'd made the request speaking in Spanish. Everyone was impressed, especially the teacher. Apparently, Kim really knew how to roll her Rs. By the night of the dance, Terri had spent hours on the phone with me, commiserating. We tried to find a reason why Woody hadn't told Kim he'd already been asked. We failed. I didn't bother to ask anyone else. I didn't want to dance with anyone but Woody. So I sat home and ate stale chocolate- covered cherries and light butter creams, and waited for Terri to call me when she got home. Kim Ferguson dated Woody Hall until he went off to Berkeley in the fall. * * * In my senior year of college, as Valentine's Day approached, I didn't have a date. I didn't have a date because Alex, the man I'd been seeing, was married. And Valentine's Day was one of those days he saved for his wife. He assuaged my disappointment by asking me to share the weekend before Valentine's Day with him. His wife was going out of town. He tempted me with pleas like, "Wouldn't it be wonderful to wake up together?" and "I just want to spend time with you without having to worry." I let him convince me. I was still wondering if I'd made the right choice when he pulled me into his bedroom. The frilly linens must have been his wife's touch. Initially, I thought he'd meant we would spend the weekend at a hotel, or maybe at my apartment, but he needed to stay home in case his wife called. I'm ashamed to say there was a wicked delight in it--parking my car a block away, sneaking into his house after dark, fingering all the things in the house that were hers. Maybe if there had been children, I would have made different decisions like never pursuing Alex in the first place or not agreeing to this weekend. But it was just Alex and his wife. We were adults. Alex wanted me. And I wanted him. The room was already prepared. Candles flickered and cast shadowy dancing demons on the wall. The floral comforter was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and crisp, white sheets were adorned with rose petals. Alex had put together a perfect bed for sin. We weren't new to each other, so stripping was less a seduction and more an act of eagerness. But though Alex was hungry, he started gently. He smoothed back my hair and cupped my face. His fuzzy chest hair tickled my nipples as he leaned in again and again to dust butterfly kisses on my cheeks, my eyes, across my nose, and finally to my lips. He tasted of mint and smelled of aftershave--something expensive that was more allusive than distinct. He caressed my neck, my shoulders, and down my arms, little pets that were neither hurried nor firm. He licked along my lips, first the top lip and then the bottom lip. He nibbled and sucked like a baby bird, impatient but soft. He slipped his tongue into my mouth and it tangled with mine. Our lips, wet and slippery, glided together, and our hungry mouths sucked. His penis lurched hard against me, dotting me with tiny beads of his moisture. He broke the kiss, stepped back, and reached for my hand. "Come with me," he said, and he pulled me along. He sat on the edge of the bed and opened his legs so I could wedge between them. I leaned closer and his mouth latched onto one nipple while his thumb made circles on the other. A warm rush of pleasure rushed through me, spreading out from my breasts and sweeping between my thighs. I locked my fingers in his shiny, blond hair and pulled him closer until his entire mouth was full from my breast. He sucked and licked and laved my nipple, my areola, and all the flesh around them. His relentless fingers kneaded and squeezed my other breast until I couldn't stand the waiting. "I want you in me," I told him. Alex released my breasts and his cock rose between us, hard and erect. He grabbed the base and made long, slow strokes up over his shiny head and down over the taut skin of the shaft. He lay flat on his back with his legs still touching the floor. I deliberately slid along his thigh, smashing myself self against its mass. He still held his penis tight and I slid right down on it. Our bodies slapped together with the fit. He grabbed my ass and worked his fingers toward the crevice. The closer he got to the rosebud of my anus, the more I pushed against him. I used his chest for leverage, digging my nails in deep, riding him feverishly. I flexed my inner muscles to tighten around his cock, milking its length. My breasts bounced viciously above his face as I ground my clit against his pubis. When I was just about to come, he overpowered me and slung me to the bed. His penis popped out--angry, red, and wet. He slapped my legs apart and climbed between them. He spread my pussy open and shoved two fingers inside, burrowing until he was as far as he could get, and then he wiggled them like little worms, spreading and stretching and tormenting my cunt. He pulled his fingers out and slid along my slit, seeking my asshole. He teased the rim, and my sphincter contracted. And then one slippery finger found its way inside, past the rim, past the sphincter, and all the way in. At first, he held it perfectly still and then began to wiggle just as he had done in my pussy. He wiggled until I wanted to beg. Until I did beg, "Please, please." He pulled his finger out and sluiced upward, bathing all his fingers in my cream. When his fingers were oily and slippery, he wrapped them around his cock and penetrated me. A quick jab followed by excruciatingly slow strokes. I locked my feet around his waist and squeezed him tight. I clawed at his arms, and he slammed harder, faster, until we were one manic animal struggling together for release. When release came, it came for both of us. Alex fell to my side face down. His breathing was ragged and his hair was matted to his scalp. I trembled with tiny aftershocks that continued to vibrate inside me. "God, you're a fantastic fuck," he said. Minutes later he was softly snoring. I was wired with crazy energy. I hopped up from the bed and went to the bathroom. I found a washrag in a closet that was full of feminine toiletries: tampons, perfumes, powders, and lotions. Faced with evidence of Alex's wife, I knew what I had to do. I tip-toed back into the bedroom. I couldn't spend the night with Alex, and I couldn't wake up with him in the morning. I might have felt sorry for him if he hadn't entered into infidelity so easily. I quickly dressed and gathered my things. Alex still slept. I opened one dresser drawer and another until I found the one that I wanted, and in it I placed a small red box with a pink chiffon heart on its lid. A Valentine's Day gift: one stick of fruity cherry striped gum, two chocolate covered cherries, and a note that said, "I hope you'll always remember me!" When I got home, I called Terri. "I tucked it in Kim's panty drawer, right where she'll find it," I told Terri. I might have felt a pang of regret, except Kim had hated me all my life, and at least now she had a reason. Chocolate Covered Cherries To the readers: There is no sex in this story. It's a story about a man and a woman and how they met and lived. It's a story written for Valentine's Day. The story is told by their eldest daughter. A special 'Thank You' to Estragon for editing this story and making it a much better read. Chapter 1 This story is about my Mom and Dad. They both had passed away a few months apart. Mom went first at age eighty-one and Dad at age eighty-four. They had been married sixty-two years. This story only covers a very small aspect of their lives. Every two years we have a family reunion at Lola Valley Park, in Michigan. It been going on as long as I can remember. Throughout the years, as our elders passed away, the next generation of our family continued on with the tradition. My generation is now the eldest, since the death of my parents. We all vowed to keep the reunion going, so the youngest of the children would have insight into the lives of their now-deceased relatives. We are the Connors clan, even though my name is Rogers, since I got married forty years ago. I'm the matriarch of the family now, at sixty years old. I've got two brothers and two sisters. We all have children and grandchildren of our own. My name is Christine; my two sisters are Cheryl and Cathy. My brothers are Carl Jr., and Charles. Yes, all of our family's first names started with a C. Mom's name was Caroline and of course Dad was Carl. When we take into account all our cousins and their families, we have quite a reunion. Someone from each of our families is picked to tell a story about our family. It's usually fun stories, about things the younger kids didn't know about their grandparents and great-grandparents. I, being the oldest, was asked to tell the story how my parents met and what kind of people they were. We always have a ton of food; everyone brought covered dishes, and plenty of soft drinks for the youngsters and a few beers for us. After everyone was through playing games and eating, we would sit down and tell our stories. I've told this story many times to my three kids and even to my five grandchildren. It never gets old and brings tears to my eyes. **** The story was told to me by both my Mom and Dad. Of course when I was old enough I could see everything for myself. These two people really loved each other but you would never picture them as a couple. Dad was a big man; I mean a really big man. He was 6'4" and weighed over two hundred seventy-five pounds in his heyday. Mom was 5'1" and maybe a hundred and ten pounds, soaking wet. Dad worked at Ford Motor Company. His dad, my Paw-Paw, got him a job there when he was nineteen. He worked on the second shift. He still lived at home so before work he would stop at the drug store and get something to eat. Back then Cunningham Drug Stores had a dairy bar and lunch counter. That's where Dad met Mom. She worked there part-time at the lunch counter. She was still in high school and was in a school-work program. According to Mom, Dad tried to get her to go out with him for over a month. Of course Dad tried to deny it. He said he was just there for lunch. One day Dad went into the store and told Mom he was drafted and would be leaving in a month. Mom got nervous; she really cared for dad but always tried not to show it. The next time he asked her out, she said yes. They saw each other every day at the lunch counter and went out every weekend. Before Dad left for basic training they vowed to write each other regularly. When you hear people say that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', it was true in this case. Mom had saved every letter that Dad had written her. She went on with her life and worked every day. Her parents, my Grandma and Grandpa, were mad at her for not going out with other boys that asked her out. They liked Dad but just couldn't picture him and Mom together. Mom did go to her high school prom but she said all she could think about was Carl, my Dad. She did say her date was a nice looking guy and she did kiss him goodnight but she felt she had cheated on Dad. The funny thing was they weren't even going together. They had just promised to write each other. Mom got worried when Dad told her he was going to Korea. They called it the "Korean conflict" but everyone knew it was a war. Dad had been gone for nearly two years. Mom was getting fewer letters from Dad and one day they stopped. She went to see Dad's parents and asked if they had heard from Dad but they said they hadn't. According to Mom, she broke down and cried. My future Grandma took her in her arms and hugged her. "Caroline, no news is good news. You have to understand that. Just pray for his safe return." Mom returned to work the following Monday. When she looked up, a serviceman was sitting at the counter. It was Dad; he had returned home. Mom ran to him and was crying. They hugged and kissed right there in the store. Dad turned around and there was a display of chocolate covered cherries right behind him. He grabbed a box, got down on one knee and asked Mom to marry him. He handed her the box of cherries and promised her they could go shopping for a ring later. She cried, took the box of cherries, said, "Yes, I'll marry you!" and the rest is history. Dad got his job back at Ford, and ended up retiring from there forty years later. Mom still worked at Cunningham's till she was pregnant with me. She then became a stay at home mom. She had four more kids over the next ten years. We were a happy family. Mom always let Dad think he was the boss but we all knew better. Dad's philosophy was, "Keep your mother happy and everyone will be happier; mom gets mad, everybody pays for it." It was a pretty true statement. Dad pretty much went along with what Mom wanted. Mom was smart enough to know not to push Dad too far. To us kids, Dad was just a big Teddy Bear, but for us girls, our dates and other men were afraid of Dad. He didn't talk much but when he did, people listened. Dad wasn't big about holidays; even Christmas he thought was way too commercial. He would argue with Mom about buying so many gifts. The one thing he would do is make each of us something out of wood. He spent a lot of his free time in the garage where he did his woodworking. We were older before we realized how much more the gifts he made meant to us. He made model cars for the boys and dollhouses for us girls. Each year he made us something new. He even did the same thing for our kids after they were born. He made mom all types of things, a grandfather clock, rocking chairs for both of them, end tables and many other things. Some people might have considered him tight but he would help most anyone out. The one thing that he bought every year for Mom was on Valentine's Day. I think it was his favorite holiday (even though not a real holiday). Looking back, the day he returned from the service, it was Valentine's Day. He would make sure that Mom received a box of chocolate covered cherries. I don't think a year past that she didn't get a box of cherries. One year the local store was out of them and he drove forty miles each way to make sure he got them. Mom and Dad did have their ups and downs. The thing was Dad would never harm Mom in any way. If anyone tried to make a pass at Mom, Dad would interfere. A couple of stories I didn't tell the kids I'll mention in this story. Mom and Dad didn't go out much when we kids were little, since all us kids were so close in age. After we got older Mom convinced Dad to go out dancing once in a while. Dad wasn't much of a dancer but he did try. Mom had eventually got her old job back at the store. She worked in different departments. Dad didn't want her to work but she was getting bored with all of us kids in school. She set up a schedule so she could always be home when we got home from school. A couple of women asked Mom to go out with them about once a month. Dad didn't like the idea but knew Mom deserved some free time of her own. He did go to ball games and often took some of us kids with him. Mom always dressed up nice. She would always kiss Dad before she left to go out and he wouldn't go to bed until she returned. He always told us he trusted her but was still worried about her. Come to think about it, he always waited up for his daughters till we got back from a date also. Sometimes Mom and her friends went to bingo, jewelry parties and even out dancing. Mom told me and my sisters this story. Dad never knew that we know what happened. Mom did tell dad that she had danced with men but it was only dancing and nothing more. Dad wasn't overly happy to hear that. She said she and her friends always stayed together and didn't except drinks from strangers. That made Dad a little happier. On one of Mom's nights out with the girls, a couple of guys where Dad worked asked him if he wanted to go out for a few beers. He mentioned it to Mom and told her he'd see her when she returned home from her night out. Dad was big on country music. It's all he would listen to in the garage while doing his woodworking. He and his friends went to that type of bar/lounge where they could watch the people line dance. A couple of Dad's friends were pretty good dancers but Dad was just a spectator. The place was crowded and Dad and his friends got a table near the back of the room, but the floor was raised and he had a great view of the dance floor. He was surprised to see Mom and her two girlfriends there dancing. He always loved to watch her dance, especially if it was for him. He thought about going and talking to her but she might feel he had intruded on her night out. His friends noticed Caroline also and said how good a dancer she was. Dad just watched her and drank his beer. He didn't feel he would stay long. A couple of men came up to the women's table and asked them to dance. Dad watched as Caroline got up and danced this slow dance with this man. He took her over to the side of the dance floor where there weren't very many people. She held his hand and wouldn't put both of her arms around his neck. It looked like he was trying to pull her closer but she kept refusing. He took his hand off her waist and moved it down to her ass. She hauled off and slapped him. He looked at Mom and laughed. She was tiny and he put both hands on her ass. Her arms were pinned between them. When Dad saw what happened he made a bee-line over to Mom. She looked surprised to see him and the man looked scared. Dad hauled off and punched the guy in the face. He only hit him one time but he broke his jaw and the whole side of his face was swelling up. The bouncers came over to face Dad. Luckily before they touched him the bartender said he saw the whole thing. "The guy on the floor took advantage of the little lady. She told him to stop but he didn't. This man here came over to help the woman." "She's my wife and no one lays a hand on her but me," said my Dad. Mom reached over and kissed him with tears in her eyes. The bouncers called the paramedics to have the guy taken to a hospital. Dad and his friends joined Mom and her friends. Dad did tell Mom that he wasn't spying on her, that's why he didn't come over to her table. When that man touched her, he had to pay the price. Dad's punishment was he had to try line dancing with Mom. When they got home Mom made love to Dad. She always said he was her hero. Mom told us girls a lot about her love life with Dad, but we had to promise never to let on that we knew. Mom said Dad was a great lover and always made sure she was satisfied. Another story I'll tell you about was when Dad got drunk. It didn't happen very often but his bowling team had just won the conference and his team set out to celebrate. Dad ended up mixing his booze, which he didn't do well. He was totally drunk. We have never seen him that intoxicated before. The funny thing is, Dad was always a happy drunk. He would never hurt anyone unless they messed with him or Mom, which happened more than once. Mom was pissed that Dad was so drunk he had to have a ride home. One of his friends drove his car and left it in the driveway. He didn't get home till after midnight. Mom told us kids not to let him in. He beat on the door, and hollered, "Caroline, let me in!" He must have said it five times. "Let me in or I'll bust the door down!" said Dad. All of us kids were in our rooms; we were scared. We never saw Dad quite this drunk. I knew one thing, that if Dad called me to open the door I would have done it, but luckily he didn't. Mom yelled to him to go sleep in the car. Neither she nor the kids were going to open the door. The next thing we heard was a big bang. We all ran downstairs, including Mom. Dad had just knocked the door down, breaking it clear off the hinges. He staggered around and put it up against the hole where the doorway was, and said he would fix it tomorrow. He told us all goodnight and went up to their bedroom and went to sleep. Mom didn't say a word but was quite astonished. I don't know where she slept that night, and never asked. The next morning we heard a pounding sound. It was dad downstairs repairing the door. When Mom came to see him, she couldn't stay mad at him and offered him a cup of coffee. They truly had a one of a kind marriage. Dad didn't apologize. He didn't do that very often. From that day on if he was drunk, Mom let him in. Chapter 2 There was one other funny story when Dad got drunk once again. It was the last time that we ever saw Dad drunk and it was a good forty years ago. He told us that he learned his lesson about drinking too much. There was even a joke written about a man in a similar situation. Dad went to an old friend's bachelor party. Mom wasn't happy about it but she really trusted Dad. She heard there would be strippers there. This happened the morning after, when Dad awoke with a splitting headache. My brother Carl Jr. was sitting there when Dad woke up. Mom had sent Carl Jr. upstairs with four aspirin and a glass of tomato juice. "Mom said to give this to you." "What the hell did I do? Did I get bombed again? Shit! Your Mom's going to kill me. What can you tell me? I need to be prepared," said Dad. Carl Jr. spoke. "Well Dad your friends Jim and Bill brought you home. Mom told them to try and get you up to the bedroom. It took them a long time, cause you were really out of it this time, Dad. "While coming up the stairs you knocked down two pictures Mom had hanging up; one frame broke. You knocked over the lamp, but luckily it didn't break. You also knocked the phone on the floor. I think it came out of the wall. Mom said you can check it out later." "OK, so where is your mom now?" "She's downstairs making you pancakes, bacon and eggs." "What? I don't get it," replied Dad. "Hell, I still have on the clothes I had on last night except for my shoes and my belt is unbuckled." Carl Jr. was smiling. "Well Dad, according to Mom she took off your shoes and when she went to take of your trousers she said you said, 'Stop lady! Leave my pants alone. I'm married and I won't cheat on my wife. Please just leave me alone.' Mom stopped after unbuckling your belt and turned the light off. I guess, drunk and all, you said the right thing. Mom said for you to take a shower and change your clothes. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." **** I was back talking to the family. That's the way it was with my parents. They were 'Father Knows Best', 'Leave it to Beaver' and 'All in the Family' all rolled into one. After retirement, they would travel together or with friends. They truly enjoyed their lives. Only a few years ago Mom had a stroke. The doctors said maybe she should be put in a nursing home but Dad said, "No way!" He was capable of taking care of her, and he did. Us kids would stop by regularly to make sure everything was ok but Dad did fine. Mom still had her wits and the use of her arms and legs. She was somewhat frail. Dad did the cooking or one of us kids cooked something and brought it over. Dad ordered meals on wheels and they brought over lunch five days a week. Mom and Dad would watch TV and do puzzles together. Mom couldn't have been in better hands. Dad truly loved her and she him. Mom ended up having another stroke and was put in the hospital, then transferred into the Hospice program, an extended care facility for a good six months. Dad would get up every morning, eat breakfast and then go and be with Mom. He was always there for her. He usually spent most of the day there. He made sure that on Valentine's Day she still got her box of chocolate covered cherries. It was in early August that she was readmitted to the hospital. Dad bought her a box of the cherries, but Mom couldn't really eat them due to the diet the hospital had her on. Dad let the nursing staff have one whenever they came into the room. After they were all gone he went and bought more. Mom passed away a week later. Dad took it really bad. He himself went downhill after that. A month later we had to put him in a nursing home. He didn't care anymore. The doctor said he was older and his body just wasn't what it used to be. We knew the truth. He was dying of a broken and lonely heart. He missed Mom. We've always felt that after one died the other wouldn't be far behind. We brought Dad home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. He had me go over his will with him. He wanted everyone to get something after he died. We kept telling him not to think about that now but he wanted it done. He gave me a list of what he promised everyone. Mom's rings and jewelry, larger items like the piano and all of his power tools. He didn't leave anyone out. After he gave me the special list he told me after he died he wanted to be buried next to Mom and that we could auction off anything that was left. Any monies and savings that they had left could divided equally among his kids. Dad was sane and knew what he was doing. He just told us he was preparing his last will and testament. He didn't want our family fighting like other families have done. After he had finished with his settlements he said he felt better. Someone from the family went to see him everyday. He would still tell stories to the grandkids but we could tell he wasn't looking very good. On February 10, I was called to the nursing home. They told me that Dad was being transferred to the hospital. I was told to get all the family there as soon as possible. I called all my siblings and they all showed up in the next couple of hours. I was alone with Dad before anyone arrived. He told me to go buy a box of chocolate covered cherries and to make sure I put them in his casket. I told him he wasn't going to die but he smiled at me and told me what a good daughter I was. "Christy (that's what he called me), I know I dying but I'm going to go be with Caroline. I know Valentine's Day is coming and she will expect me to have them. Please make sure I have them to take with me." I was crying when I said, "Yes Daddy, I'll get them for you." He was able to see everyone in our family and talked to each one of us before he passed away. He told us all that we were great kids and he was proud of all of us. He was now going to be with our mom. He died the next day. We had calling hours on the thirteenth of February and the funeral was the next day. It was February 14, Valentine's Day. As everyone walked up to see Dad they said he seemed peaceful and happy. I went up and put the box of chocolate covered cherries under his hand. It brought tears to everyone's eyes. I believe they all knew what it represented. When we went home that evening, I felt at peace with the world. I pictured my Dad with my Mom doing a puzzle and eating the cherries. **** Chocolate Covered Cherries After I told the stories everyone at the reunion had tears in their eyes. We brought along picture albums so everyone could pictures of our family growing up. I also brought along two boxes of chocolate covered and opened them so everyone could have some. As for the auction and settling of the estate, it went wonderfully. Everyone got what Dad and Mom had promised them. Most came to the auction and bought other keepsake items to keep in the family. The lawyer for the estate said he never has seen a family so close and not bickering among themselves and being petty and miserable. He told me our parents must have been some very special people. We agreed. After he called us all in and gave us our portion of the estate my daughter Connie gave him a box of chocolate covered cherries to remember us by. He told us he would never forget us. He never sees many families as close as ours is. * Thank you for reading my story Comments are welcome and appreciated DG Hear