demons

When dad met mom he was a mess. She was his reason for changing. He reinvented
himself into something desirable and went after her full steam. Eventually he
convinced her into marriage and they produced three off spring, I'm one of
them. Ultimately his old personality resurfaced. He had failed to replace the
old habits with new ones that would stick. Apparently his love for mom was not
sufficient for permanent alteration. His demons came back and brought numerous
acquaintances,(demons don't have friends). He resumed gambling, drinking,
sexual explorations on the web, spending over his income and even though it
wasn't mentioned I wonder about pedophilia. Mom must have also because she
sent him packing one night after he came to my room to give me a nighttime hug
after a drinking excursion.

He moved into a private, quaint cardboard box with other deviants and
misplaced humanity near the old cemetery. The cemetery went back years and
hadn't been used for decades so the living homeless moved in. I would go down
there an watch him from a distance. I was afraid of him, he wore barely no
clothes and got into tons of scrapes with his fellow rejects. I would spy on
him as he cut and beat himself till he bled or got worn out. He was a
terrifying sight but he was still my dad and part of me loved him dearly. Mom
and I prayed for him every night. I am beginning to doubt that God is
listening, however.

One late afternoon as I was hiding in the bushes a group of tired looking
hobos approached the homeless camp. They looked like they had been walking for
a while, their feet and clothes were dusty and they needed a good bath but
they actually appeared decent. Good upbringing shines through even hard
times. They asked a few of the people if it was alright for them to bunk down
there for the night. Most of the residences ignored them, and a few grumbled
acquiesce. The group pulled out tents and camping gear and set up housekeeping
on the periphery.

After some time they had a campfire going and food stewing. The aroma spread all the way to me. My salivary glands started watering. Some of the old timers gathered around the new fire. The new comers invited the onlookers to join them. Soon there was laughing and talking and partying, but without alcohol. Oddly there seemed enough food for all who came and they did keep coming. I couldn't see the size of the pot through all the people but I couldn't imagine it feeding so many. Some of the old timers brought food to
add to the menu. No one was sent away.

I was tempted to approach but feared my dad who was by himself and between me and the goings on. He had a scowl on his face that was intimidating. He was shaking and sweat was pouring from him.
Withdrawals? Without warning he ran to the assembly with a sharp knife, cursing profanities. One of the new hobos stood up and palm upward motioned for all to be calm. The old timers were afraid of dad, they had seen him hurt too many so they cowered in a huddle. The brave man walked towards dad slowly
and calmly. His hands up to show no aggression or bad will. Dad stopped short right in front of him and fell to his knees crying. I inched forward in the bushes, amazed

Dad started talking first, “I’m so sorry, I know who you are but these voices in my head are screaming at me to kill you!"
"How many voices do you hear?"
"Thousands, I can't distinguish them!"
"They are leaving you now!" the stranger proclaimed raising his eyes to heaven and pointing at a flock of
crows. Sparks flew at the crows that got agitated and soared upwards. Butting heads and knocking some out they tangled up in each other and fell down into a barbed wire fence getting trapped where they would stay till they died.

All was silent except for the cawing crows. The company around the campfire were all eyes and ears. No one talked. The friends of the newcomer didn't looked surprised. They could predict the next few moments of conversation, yea, they could recite it verbatim if they wanted to, but they just watched and smiled.

Dad stopped crying and hugged the man's feet and ankles. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, I'm your humble servant. I intend to follow you forever and care for you."

"Nonsense. You have a family that needs you. Go to them now. Caring for them will show your
appreciation for what I've done."

Who told him about dad and us? None of the old-timers would know. Dad was after all not very
social or outgoing. The newcomer did something else that astonished me. He looked over in my direction at the bushes I was hiding in.
“Come get your dad and bring him home!" I slipped out of cover and hesitantly approached. The man's eyes were soft and gentle.
Dad stood up astounded and resuming his role as daddy asked, "What are you doing out at night over here? This is no place for you."
"Nor for you, come home with me." I extended my hands and brought dad home.

It didn't take any convincing for mom to let him in. Standing at the open door, staring into the dusk she seemed oddly prepared for his return, with a bath drawn and his clothes over the bed. She knew he'd be back tonight! She had been sitting with her bible open when a fantastic premonition hit that urged her to be ready for something dramatic.

Dad demons were replaced with good spirits after this event. He volunteered at the homeless shelter and starting teaching Sunday school and did so with authority, as one with a personal knowledge of the
savior. His old boss rehired him and mom got to quit work stay home and care for us and the next three additions that appeared. What a wonderful life I have now, far better than Jimmy Stewart's! (except for the extra babysitting I'm drafted for!)