Waiting

i glanced out the window hurriedly, taking a worried sip of tea and almost spilling it all over myself. was he here yet? nope, not yet. i set down the teacup with a rather angry bang. he promised! i glance down at the table. my sketches and paintings cover the whole wood surface. man, i'd been busy this year. i hadn't even really realized it.

at the sound of a car coming down the street i popped up out of my seat to look out the window again. and sighed. it wasn't Dad. it wasn't even anybody i knew.

"come on, come on, hurry up," i whispered.

i hated waiting. hated it with a passion. and why was he late? he was never late. my dad was like the king of never being late. so then why was he? i glanced at my watch. ten minutes late, now. soon to be fifteen. then twenty. then thirty. then i'd call the police and report him missing. i know that sounds rather... well... overreacting, but you seriously don't know my dad.

i heard the sound of another car but this time stayed in a dejected slump in my chair. that's when i heard it--"Carrie?"

i rushed out of my chair, stumbled down the stairs, and threw open the front door. there was Dad, smiling, holding a package.

"sorry i'm late," he said, "but i stopped by the mall to grab this..."

i reached past the present and gave him a hug.

"i love you," i whispered.

"i love you, too," he told me.