Childhood memories are powerful in that they last a life time. Vivid and bittersweet, I recall the many times I moved as a child. This short is about one of those times. After serving seven years in the penitentiary for writing hot checks, Daddy entered our lives with strict prison rules. He did not use physical abuse on us kids but his mental abuse left longer lasting scars. Tall, slim, dark haired Daddy, jumped from job to job, year after year. Baker by trade, he rose at 2 am each morning and returned from work in the early afternoon. His arrival announced by squealing brakes and rumbling engine of the Oldsmobile he drove.