Crushed

It was early in the morning when I set out to fulfill the days dream.  I  had one thing in mind, making my dad happy .  I was in the kitchen, the place where day after day I heard the dreaded words "S#$%, S#$% on a stick.  I work all day long and when I leave in the morning the kitchen is clean and when I come home this, S@#"  he sound is awful, but nothing compares to the look on his face when he is screaming this wildly.  The guilt and shame that are meant to be conveyed are efficiently transferred to me.  But today will be different, today he will come home and the kitchen will sparkle like it has never sparkled before. 

I started with he shelf above the cupboards, it was dusty and held many knickknacks that also needed washing or dusting.  Carefully I took everything down, dusted the shelf and replaced the items one by one neatly , after having cleaned them off.  I could see the gleam in my fathers eye when he noticed how amazing it looked. 

Satisfied with the cupboard top I moved to the cupboards themselves wiping any trace of dust from the surfaces.  The hood of the stove was famous for getting oily, so I washed it off carefully too.  I repeated the careful removal and replacing of items from on top of the fridge, the place was starting to shine, I had already spent hours in my endeavor but oh boy was it going to be worth it, what would it be like to have a loving father not an angry one?  I was sure to find out. 

The dishes were next wash dried and the dishwasher emptied, every surface of the counter and stove shone as I had never seen the surfaces gleam like this, the kind of gleam like a little boy wants to see in his fathers eye when the look at each other.  Oh boy this was going to be a special night, a night to remember.

The table was cleared, and set, this took a bit of work as I had baked a fresh loaf of bread while cleaning the kitchen, punching down the loaf as the day wore on, baking it and placing it on the table for all to see.  The house was permeated with the smell of a bakery, this added to the experience that was going to be spectacular.

The floors swept and mopped I retired to the living room to watch what was left of my Saturday TV, having already given up on my morning cartoons.  I waited in eager anticipation for the unveiling of my masterpiece, to show my father what I had done just for him.  I heard the gravel crunch and saw the lights of his car coming down the driveway, and I jumped up and ran to the kitchen, standing there waiting as he walked up the steps.

You can only imagine the joy that was in my heart, a little boy striving for his dad attention, and today I was going to get it. 

The door opened and "S%#$, S%#$ on a STICK, who tracked mud on my carpet?",

My heart sank, my day wasted, my love never to be found.  I ran from the kitchen into my room, with tears streaming from my eyes.   A boy not rewarded, but crushed.   My father came to try to figure out what had happened, but it was too late, his appreciation of my work was not enough anymore.  It seems that no matter what you do it just not good enough.