I can't recall why I had the nerve to take this image of my father sleeping on the floor during Mari's family reunion. She was very protective of him, so perhaps she wasn't around or noticing. I imagine the scene, since I don't entirely remember the circumstances, with other people sitting around in the living room. But it could be that they were outside playing card and my father just wandered off and went to sleep on the floor.
At any rate, it was an entirely familiar to me, a sight I'd witnessed many times after he'd quietly drunk himself into the desire for sleep. Usually he was the host, pouring many large glasses of Scotch or whatever for guests. He was a great one for quietly insisting that everyone have another drink.
My stepmother, who adored my father, her first husband, her only husband, thought that the sun rose when he did which was quite early every morning. They had a remarkable relationship that started when each were in their mid-fifties and he met her again, perhaps slightly before he divorced my first stepmother.