My father is like a Butterfinger candy bar.
Crispy on the outside, creamy in the middle &
just as sweet when you get to know him. My father
is not a man of many words so this is not a feat
that is easily achieved. Unlike a Butterfinger he doesn’t
melt under a little heat, doesn’t crumble under
the slightest pressure. Maybe he’s a little more like
Heath Bars — all that toffee and chocolate.
Whatever it is, I know he is full of something
good. He’s full of something that feels like home.
Looks like home. Smells like home. Sounds like home.
Day 6 of 30