Today's OneWord: Father

I never really knew my father, save for one bleak memory. Warm, but gray. Muggy. We were standing in our backyard together, him drinking a beer, me sipping on some cider I had made with my mother. When I looked up at my father, I noticed he was balding. His hair was gray. He was fat. His teeth were stained when he smiled. And he kept looking out toward the old white fence that sealed us in, as if waiting for someone or something to break through, snatch him up, and steal him away.