My Dad Loves Me  I'm eating a meal at my dad's little house. Others are there. We eat a lot, including cake, cheese curls, and sherbet made of three flavors. We're driving in a car: my dad, I, my sister Heather, Heather's friend Belinda Bark, and I think my sister Ramona. We drive to drop Belinda off, turning into an alley that is near Slope Avenue in Oak Valley. I'm home now, but will go back to Melbourne next Saturday, in ten days. I talk about leaving to go back and my dad seems sad. We get out of the car. As we approach home, my mom yells out the door that there is a phone call for Heather. I go and hug Heather goodbye. My dad is walking away in a dejected manner. I catch up with and stop him. We hug each other and cry. I tell him I love him. He says he loves me more than I love him. I want to get my phone number in Melbourne for him. I try to write it on my pocket notepad, but I have difficulty. The numbers I write are messy. I scribble them out. I get the number confused and write the wrong numbers, then scribble them out. I try hard to get correct numbers down clearly, but I can't. I lean the pad up against a wooden post and write the number 6884 9224, which is my number.