My Father's Diary

don't go to my father's house very often. He lives alone. But we had just gotten home from a beach trip the day before, and he had left his wallet in my glove compartment. His door was open when I arrived at his place, and he yelled that he had just stepped into the shower. I decided to wait. Maybe curiosity killed the cat, but tucked out of sight near his favorite chair, I found a notebook. I opened to the last written page of my father's diary. Here's what he wrote: "We sat under the umbrella, which barely cooled us from the scorching heat. My grand-kids were playing in the surf. Lisa wore a really flimsy flowery- blue bikini, and I tried very hard not to let her catch my daring glances at her much exposed breasts. I wondered if she noticed. When she was a teenager, she had very small breasts. But now, maybe because of having had children, her breasts were just perfect, not huge, but full and perfectly shaped.