Liv Reimer

My father worked overnight for most of my childhood, he slept all day and was gone at night. We were sitting in the backseat of his silver 4 door chevy that was always hot inside no matter what as we pulled into a Wendy's drive thru. My father, as normal, would get 2 sandwiches, one for then and one for before his night shift while me and my sister got whatever had interested us that day. We got home, ran off to the living room and turned on our nickelodeon, the blasting of the ICarly intro as we argued over who got the remote. 

My father walked in over the creaky wooden floor that was discolored, to remind us not to eat his sandwich because it was for work. He strictly said “no do not touch the sandwich in the fridge” the tone of stern and seriousness as if he was not messing around, the word “okay” slipped out and my attention went right back to my show. I turn my head to see him walking into the straight hallway and into his bedroom which was a straight shot from the living room, as he walked in my sister creeps off and states not to say a word. As being a nosy 5-year-old, I followed her into the kitchen and watch her book it, straight to the fridge. She grabbed the sandwich and tore the wrapper, the smell of the chicken mixed with the mayo was released and it hit me on what she was going to do.

 I screamed for my dad, “Madison's got your sandwich”, I had known to be a snitch in my family so this wasn’t a shock. Next thing you hear is my father scream back “put it down”, my sister runs behind the couch gripping the sandwich with both hands, it’s a stare down between them and I'm on the sidelines watching. My father repeats himself “put it down”, my sister stares directly at him and takes a bite, you can hear the crunch of the lettuce and crispy chicken and can almost taste the bun. He runs for her, the look on her face: she was scared to her bones. He picked her up, dropping the sandwich on the floor, it all just fell apart and left a big grease mark. He runs her over to the door and jokingly “hangs” her by her shirt on the door. The yells of “put me down put me down” as I nonstop laugh in the background. I don’t remember a lot from my childhood, but this memory will always be a core one, a shared moment that me and my sister will never forget.