THERMOS

This is my Dad's work thermos. I have a faint memory of a late winter afternoon when Mom took me to Atlas Steels, where Dad worked at the mill. The plant, surrounded by a tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, always frightened me due to the loud noises and visible fire through its dirty windows. On one visit, Mom waved to someone on the other side of the fence - it was Dad, unrecognizable in his work clothes, unfamiliar glasses, and a face dirty and sweaty despite the cold. Mom skillfully tossed the thermos over the fence to him. My brother and I attempted to throw packs of cigarettes over the fence too, but only Mom succeeded. Her arm was undeniably better.