"Hey, Dad, welcome home."

hey爸爸，欢迎回家。

"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.

谢谢，在我去厨房忙的时候，他放好了他的枪的皮肤脱下了他的靴子。在我的意识中，他在他的工作中从来没有开过枪。但是他总是带着。

When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door.

当我来这里的时候还是个孩子，他总是刚进门就以最快的速度拿下了皮带。

I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.

我猜他是考虑到我现在长大了，不会意外的向自己开枪了，更加不可能故意向自己开枪了。

当我还小，来这里住着的时候，他总是一进门就把子弹给卸下来了。我猜他是觉得我够大了，不会因为枪走火而伤着自己，也没有沮丧到要饮弹自杀尽。

"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.

晚饭吃什么？他留心的问道。我妈妈是个富有想象力的厨师，然后她总是能做出不同的食物。我很惊讶，然后悲伤，好像这些回忆都回来了。

“晚饭吃什么？”他警惕地问。我的母亲是个富有创意的厨子，但她的试验品通常都难以下咽。我既惊异，又难过：他居然到现在还记着这件事。

"Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved.

牛排和土豆，我回答到，然后他看起来放心了。

He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked.

他看起来笨拙的站在厨房里面无所事事，当我在忙的时候他转身去了客厅看电视了。

We were bothmore comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.

这让我们都感觉更舒服了。当烤牛排的时候我做着沙拉，然后布置着桌子。