Dad always came home from work around sunset, and we would drop everything, no matter what, to run to greet him. We’d hear his panel van roaring down the street long before it crunched down the gravel driveway, and while we waited, our minds bubbled with thoughts of the lollypops and chocolate frogs he might bring us. To our small selves, this was a momentous part of each day. (Illustration Friday).
Listening to: Powderfinger