"Hey, Dad, welcome home."
hey爸爸，歡迎回家。
"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gunon the job. But he kept it ready.
謝謝，在我去廚房忙的時候，他放好了他的槍的面板脫下了他的靴子。在我的意識中，他在他的工作中從來沒有開過槍。但是他總是帶著。
When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door.
當我來這裡的時候還是個孩子，他總是剛進門就以最快的速度拿下了皮帶。
I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.
我猜他是考慮到我現在長大了，不會意外的向自己開槍了，更加不可能故意向自己開槍了。
當我還小，來這裡住著的時候，他總是一進門就把子彈給卸下來了。我猜他是覺得我夠大了，不會因為槍走火而傷著自己，也沒有沮喪到要飲彈自殺盡。
"What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook,and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, tha the seemed to remember that far back.
晚飯吃什麼？他留心的問道。我媽媽是個富有想象力的廚師，然後她總是能做出不同的食物。我很驚訝，然後悲傷，好像這些回憶都回來了。
“晚飯吃什麼？”他警惕地問。我的母親是個富有創意的廚子，但她的試驗品通常都難以下嚥。我既驚異，又難過：他居然到現在還記著這件事。
"Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved.
牛排和土豆，我回答到，然後他看起來放心了。
He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked.
他看起來笨拙的站在廚房裡面無所事事，當我在忙的時候他轉身去了客廳看電視了。
We were bothmore comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.
這讓我們都感覺更舒服了。當烤牛排的時候我做著沙拉，然後佈置著桌子。