A Day With Dad And Uncle Tom By Sheila Robins 11yo 63 -

Lunch was a picnic spread on a red-checkered blanket. Mom had packed ham sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, hard-boiled eggs with salt, and glass bottles of Coca-Cola. For dessert, Uncle Tom surprised us with a box of glazed donuts he’d bought on the way. We ate until we were full, lying on our backs and watching the clouds move across the sky. They talked about the future—about the new rockets going into space and how much the world was changing. At eleven, I didn't understand everything they said, but I felt the weight and the wonder of it.

After a scrumptious breakfast, we set off in my dad's car, with Uncle Tom navigating and my dad driving. We headed to the nearby state park, where we planned to hike, have a picnic, and maybe even spot some wildlife. As we drove, Uncle Tom regaled us with stories of his own childhood adventures, growing up on a farm in the countryside. My dad chuckled and chimed in with his own memories, and I listened, wide-eyed, feeling like I was part of a special club, privy to their inside jokes and reminiscences.

Uncle Tom was already sitting at the kitchen table, sipping black coffee from one of Mom’s ceramic mugs. He looked giant in his red plaid flannel shirt and heavy work boots. Uncle Tom is Dad’s older brother, and he always tells the loudest jokes and has the biggest laugh in the whole county. Dad was at the stove, flipping pancakes and whistling a tune he heard on the radio last night. a day with dad and uncle tom by sheila robins 11yo 63

The "day" in A Day with Dad and Uncle Tom isn't a trip to a foreign country. Instead, it’s a journey to the local fishing spot, a trip to a nearby park, or perhaps fixing something in the garage. The beauty of the narrative lies in the finding of joy in the ordinary.

The sun was barely up when Dad shook my shoulder. "Rise and shine, Sheila," he whispered. "Uncle Tom’s already out front with the truck." I scrambled out of bed, the floorboards cold under my feet, and pulled on my favorite dungarees. Today was the big day—we were going down to the lake. Lunch was a picnic spread on a red-checkered blanket

For an hour, we just sat on upside-down wooden bait buckets.

I smiled, feeling proud of myself too. "Thanks, Uncle Tom. I had an amazing day with you and Dad." We ate until we were full, lying on

"You got a bite, Sheila! Hold on!" Dad shouted, placing his big hands over mine on the cork handle.