By the time Jenny walked up the path to her house, her dad was home from work and making dinner. Both of her parents were amazing cooks and in completely different ways. In the background a mournful cello filled the air with melancholy.

“Hey, Dad!” Jenny dumped her school bag into a chair that sagged under the weight.

“Hey, Darling,” her Dad answered. “How was school?”

“Oh, it was really interesting.” Jenny stuck her head in the refridgerator. “I think I am really going to like highschool.”

A wooden spoon tapped her gently on the arm. “Stay out of there, kiddo. Dinner’s almost done.”

“Snack?” Jenny asked, holding up an apple from the crisper.

“Snack.” her dad agreed.

The cello playing turned violent as if imitating a thunderstorm.

“I guess Mom is really into it tonight.” Jenny said.

“Yeah she’s been in there since I got home, which is one of the reasons we’re having porkchops. Hungry?”

“Starving! They made us do these-”

As the conversation continued, Jenny was briefly aware of how lucky she was.