I love my father. I miss him. He never stayed with us. He used to come occasionally. Sometimes I couldn’t even know when he came and when he left. I would be fast asleep. I asked my mother about my father. She would parry my questions. When I insisted, she said that he was living with his friends. I knew it was rather unusual. I too have friends. I like playing with them but I always wanted to go back to my mother. Sometimes I would stop playing in the middle, however interesting the game might be, and run to my mother. My father is different and so his friends. When I was in fifth grade, he used to visit us frequently. He was affectionate to me. One day I was playing and my friends disturbed a honeycomb. The honeybees chased us. I ran fast into my house and closed…
