[by Samara]
One night after Dad first bought his house on Maple Street, I came over to spend some quality time with him. I guess I was feeling particularly grown up, because I wanted to cook dinner. I don't remember what else was for dinner, but I remember steaming asparagus. While setting the water up to boil, we got distracted. And before I knew it, the pot on the stovetop had run out of water and flames were shooting out the top. We all start to panic. There's lots of commotion, and the flaming pan somehow hits the linoleum floor (leaving a huge burn mark) and Dad kicks it out the door. His first reaction: yelling. My first reaction: crying. We yelled at each other until we were no longer panicking. When we calmed down, he assured me it was ok. It was just a floor. It was just some asparagus and a pan. We were all ok and that's what mattered. Years later, he remodeled that apartment and put nice, bamboo floors throughout. As the linoleum was removed, we got a kick out of reliving that story.
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