"You boys will set a bad example smoking
in front of the kids."
My father leaned back, his rotund belly seeming
to swell as he glanced slyly across the kitchen table at his older,
thinner brother. My cousins and I, piled one on top of another,
peered through a small crack in the farmhouse door, our favorite
hobby spying on the grown-ups. My father gracefully picked his cigarette
out of the green glass ash tray and took a thoughtful drag.
"Ma, you know we don't smoke in front of
the kids."
Don nodded approvingly at his brother and flicked his finished butt
into the dirty dishwater, eyeing for his mother's reaction. She
hadn't noticed, as her sideways gaze was fixed on a small crack
in the door.Without a word, Don swept his hat from the table, plucking
a half-chewed straw of grass
hay from the band before placing it carefully on his head.
We spilled and rolled away giggling as he pushed through the
door.
