For the past 57 years since July 23, 1966, the anniversary of my father’s passing, many memories are still intact. Fifteen years old at the time, my mother asked me what personal keepsakes I’d like for my very own. I chose a handkerchief and two pairs of cufflinks.

Residing in one of my desk drawers, the folded handkerchief is inside a plastic sleeve along with my 1973 college freshman beanie. The cufflinks are in a case which I’d originally kept in a jewelry box on top of a bureau. I’ve since placed the case on top of my desk where there still seems to be room at the inn for treasures.

A master welder by trade, and an antique auto restorer in his spare time, my dad hardly wore a dress shirt requiring these fasteners for holding the cuffs together. He did make use of them when gussying up for Sunday mass and special occasions.

A wellspring of wisdom, I’d be remiss if I didn’t link one of his turns of phrase—“Whenever you’re inside a building, note the exit.”

A safety precaution in case of fire, I’ve often heeded his sound advice for walking away from situations which no longer serve my best interests.

In the capacity of a writer, I’ve exited the draft for Chapter 35 (1151 words). I’m in the throes of composing Chapter 36 (65 words thus far) along my Contemporary work in progress.

*May each of us have an exit strategy for escaping a toxic situation.

My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.

Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco