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
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.