Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in. The world was singularly unimpressed. Which explained what he was doing in our living room, his meager belongings at his feet, on the eve of a new millennium. Amd that's about the way it's been. My son and I are as tense and itchy-fingered around each other as Texas border guards peering across the Rio Grande on a moonless night.
Every conversation ends in anger and accusation.
It's like he never left. But every path leads us to a cliff and we leap off into the shadows. He tells me about his friends, really smart college kids who are all on the verge of flunking out, who find strength somehow in lowering their expections in the face of difficulties. Sue says that was a mistake. And I respond that regret can be a good thing, that regret is part of conscience.