My Boy Can Come Home

It probably wouldn't surprise you to hear that back in my days as a heathen, I engaged in heathenish behavior.

Not that I'm proud of any of that or that I'm bragging or giving the devil the glory (as we say when a Christian begins to relate his wretched past).

Just that the fact that I was involved with a young woman is essential to the point of the story.

At any rate, we were about to move into the Old House.

My mom was upset (as she should have been) and complained to my dad about my moving myself and my girlfriend in across the road from Mom and Dad's house.

Now back when I first walked away from the Church, my father had done his best to witness to me, remonstrate with me, advise me that "You should start back going to church."

Finally it came to the point where I looked him in the eye and said, "You know, Daddy, I just don't want to talk about it anymore."

He gazed back at me, nodded his head and that was the last time the subject came up between us.

Did he give up on me then?

If you ever knew my daddy, you would not have to ask that question.

So when the day came when my significant other and I were preparing to move in across the street and Mom drew this to his attention, he simply said:

"Ain't nobody gonna tell my boy he can't come home."