Before my folks took over Shore’s Jewellers in North Vancouver, my dad worked for the main store on Hastings Street. Every morning he’d walk to the bottom of Lonsdale and take the ferry into the city. Like clockwork, he’d come back on the return ferry at 5:30 and be home on the dot of 6:00pm. We knew exactly when he’d be home. Alan and I would wait like two giddy, wagging dogs, ready to pounce on him. His arrival was a big part of the family routine. It heralded a call to dinner, then (after homework) an evening of board games or TV.
We’d watch something like “Gun Smoke” or “Walt Disney Presents” before going to bed. How lucky we were. I still remember the smell of my dad’s raincoat as I buried my face in it. I remember being picked up so I could look directly into his eyes and thinking it must be wonderful to be so tall. I remember him kissing me and hugging me and swinging me around when he came home. When I drew this strip, I thought about how much I loved him and how love never runs out.