Early in 1999, our family had to drive several hundred miles to Billings, Montana, to visit a hospitalized family member. Between our travel, accommodation, and having given most of our available cash to help our relatives out with expenses, we had very little money with us when we left to return home. It was getting dark when we drove out of Billings.

At first, we didn’t notice that our headlights were dimming(变暗), and that was probably why we missed the exit for the interstate(州际公路) leading home. About 40 miles later, we began to see that nothing along the highway was familiar to us. In 35 more miles, we saw an exit to a town that wasn’t anywhere near where we were supposed to be.

With eight miles to the next exit, we began to realize the headlights were dangerously dim. The car began to make a series of short explosive sounds, which made us feel extremely worried. I had to turn off the lights to keep it running. At the foot of the exit slope, there was a small post office in front of us. The car stopped running completely as we pulled into the parking lot.

I soon determined that there was something wrong with the alternator (发电机). It was 7:00 in the evening and we were in Rosebud, Montana, which was a tiny town with no services. To make things worse, the heavy snow was falling. We needed to find our family a safe place to spend the cold night and find an alternator to fix the car the next morning. Hopelessly, we couldn’t see any other buildings around us, and the rest of the town was nearly a mile away. Even if we walked there, we knew that there was probably no hotel or parts store.

Just then, a woman stopped to check the mail before going home.

Unexpectedly, she came back the next morning!

It was our first day to explore the city of Jerusalem on our own, without a friend or tour guide leading the way. We had completed a week-long tour and felt confident that we could walk through the ancient streets by ourselves now. Then we suddenly realized that the sky had turned from clear blue to gray.

“It's time to head back!” we said at the same time. As we proceeded along the Hebron road to our apartment, the storm clouds covered the entire sky, and the first raindrops began to hit our heads. “Should we grab a taxi?” I shouted to my husband, the rain being so loud I had to raise my voice. “No, we can make it,” he replied loudly. “It's only a twenty-minute walk, and we will go fast.” As the rain and wind increased, so did our footsteps.

We marched ahead, but it wasn't long before we realized that we had been walking much longer than it should have taken us to arrive home. How in the world did we manage to take a wrong turn? We stopped a moment to say a prayer. It was simple and went something like this, “Please, God, lead us back to our apartment and send us your angels for protection.”

It was still pouring when my husband paused, detecting what appeared to be a pathway off the main road. “I think we should take this path,” he announced. “Here?” I was doubtful. I followed his lead as we made our way through overgrown brush until we entered a slight clearing. Looking out into the darkness from behind the bushes, we realized that we had come to a residential neighbourhood. “Let's just wait a minute,” he said. As we stood under the trees, some headlights appeared. A car pulled up to the roadside just below where we were huddled (挤在一起). Soon, a woman got out of the car.

I approached her and the woman was noticeably shocked to see such a sight.

Noticing the confused looks on our faces, the woman suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

Ever since I came to work in my present company five years ago, I have heard about a small restaurant nearby called Love Dad. Everybody believes that it is owned by somebody’s loving dad. The restaurant does give the diners a sense of home. The furnishings are homely, with dining areas looking like family dining rooms. Best of all, they have hand-drawn cards, which diners can take away with them when checking out. The restaurant doesn’t have a menu. You never know what will be served until you come to its door with a “served today” notice hanging to it.

Whenever I pass by, I just can’t help entering to enjoy the homely atmosphere. It’s a reminder of my own home and my dad, who will prepare a great dinner for the family every day. Dad is a manager in a construction company and a great cook at home and not only a great cook. He is the kind of hero-like father at home, who can fix everything in the home and deal with all problems. As my parents live in another city, this small homely restaurant is where I choose to go to comfort my homesickness.

Curiosity about whose dad the owner of the restaurant is has always been there among my workmates who are its regular customers but it seems that nobody has a clue. It doesn’t matter much as all of them can get a taste of home there.

Last month, when I was home for the Christmas break, my parents talked to me about their plan for retirement and I mentioned the restaurant Love Dad to them. We all thought it would be great if Mom and Dad could join the restaurant in some way. They asked me about the exact location of it and decided to deal with the matter themselves.

One week later, I got an email from Dad.

One day, I was sitting in Love Dad again.