orange

My father must think that his return home is a right of passage of sort, the right to tell others what to do, when to do it and how to do it all to benefit none other than himself. His ego driven persona has been shining, even through the clouds and although his mind is not all there, his ability to order others around has not lost a beat, if anything, more in tact and with a stronger command than before.

So, It should have been no surprise when I sat down last evening to read and I hear my name called, answering and being asked to peel him an orange. I hesitated and said, 'you must be joking'. ...'No, I don't think my hands can do it'. Out of disgust I peeled the orange and presented it to him and he ate it, no thank you, no nothing except the paper towel it once sat on lying on the floor for someone to pick up, anyone but him.