The second Wheaton house I remember was one we lived in for only a few months, memorable for one reason--BIG dog.Terrifying beast. One day I didn't get indoors fast enough; and there was the dog--and me hurtiling down the cellar stairs. On the other side of the door I could hear the beast snuffing and pawing. A small sunbeam fell through a dusty window and I went and stood on that wee patch of light.

I'd been eating a banana. Somehow I dropped it. Seeing the squishy mess--stomach knotted with fear--I very nearly threw up. But once I came to my senses, I simply stood waiting. My father would miss me, and come looking for me. Within minutes, I heard his voice, the rattle of the door.

Two thing I carry from that incident: Knowing I am safe in the love and protection of my father and an abiding distaste for bannanas.

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