Maybe it was in an old coffee can in the garage. Maybe it was wrapped in an old faded bandana, wedged between his favorite records. Either way, you probably knew, or at least suspected, that your dad liked to get high once in a while. And like any Dad, he was always prepared. So he had some grass laying around, somewhere. But he never missed a day of work. He’d always be there at 7 to pick you up from practice. He worked hard to put food on the table, help your mom anyway he could and he always tried to make you laugh. And yeah, sometimes you’d hear the tunes wafting in a little loud from the back porch. Maybe you’d catch a funky, familiar smell mixed into with the aroma of fresh cut grass. Him, with his sunglasses on, a cold beer sweating in his hand. Your dad’s stash was there to keep his soul light and his head right. A reprieve from the breakneck speed of work, family, and life. Just like your dad, it was nothing fancy, nothing complicated. Just good, sun-grown grass.