Cigars

[by Beth]

Cigars always remind me of Dad. As long as I can remember, he always smoked big, fat cigars. One of my earliest memories is at our house in Mosheim, him coming home from work, and me running up to hug him. On my way to him, I thought a bee stung me but in reality I had run into his stupid, big cigar.

Every time I smell a cigar, it reminds me of Dad.