Refugees

My phone rang at 9:15 this morning.

“Hello.”

“You aren’t going to like this, but your mother and I are coming to your house to spend a couple of nights because the power is off at the farm.”

My father should have at least started with hello. Their power went out yesterday morning at 5:30 in the morning. They went to the Hampton Inn in Danville, but did not get a good night’s sleep so my house, with three empty bedrooms was the answer.

“Dad, that is fine, but I am out all morning and have three meetings at church from 4-7.”

I could hear my mother in the the back ground, saying, “Ask her how we can break into her house.”

So I came home from my morning engagement and found my Dad taking a nap and my mother wandering around my house. When I returned from my church meetings I was greeted by my parents both wearing their coats complaining about how cold my house was. I found this rich, since as a child our house was never above 60 in the middle of New England winters. True to his norm my Dad offered me cash to pay for putting the heat up. I settled on his buying dinner.

So now the heat is cranked up to a level that means I will have to open a window to sleep, but at least my parents can be comfortable with electricity and heat in their own rooms where they can sleep without bothering anybody.

I am spending more time with my father in the last four weeks than I have since before I went to boarding school and that includes all the years I worked with him. At least with all the meetings I had I was able to escape watching Fox News. I am happy to have my parents come and stay, but I draw the line at Fox News.