My father was raised in a fatherless home at a time when government assistance was unheard of. The family of five struggled hard to1, which caused my father to be extremely mean with his money.
When we children—two older brothers and myself—asked him for spending money, his face turned cold, saying "If you are old enough to ask, you are old enough to2". So when the need3, we tried to seek jobs in the neighborhood or sell produce from the garden.
His attitude didn't soften as we grew into adulthood and went to jobs or college. Since none of us had a car, we had to ride the bus whenever we came home. Though the bus stopped about two miles from home, father never4us, even in5weather. If someone6, he would say, "That's what your legs are for! "For me, the walk didn't bother me as much as the 7of walking alone along the highway and country roads. I also felt that my father didn't seem concerned about my safety. That feeling disappeared one spring evening.
It had been an extremely 8week at college. Tests and long hours in labs had left me9. I longed for home and a soft bed. As other students were met at their stops, I gazed10 out of the window. Finally, the bus stopped at my destination. I stepped off and walked home with my luggage.
A row of hedge edged the driveway that climbed the hill to our house. Once I turned off the highway and saw the hedge, I was always 11because it meant that I was almost home. On that particular evening, the hedge had just come into 12when I saw a(an)13moving toward the house along the top of the hedge. Upon closer 14, I realized it was my father. Then I knew each time I came home, he stood 15 the hedge, watching until he knew I had arrived safely. I swallowed hard against the tears. He did care, after all.
