What’d He Say?

Coming home from college always meant catching up with the folks.

But the layout of our house made that difficult. While my father, sister and I chatted it up in the living room, Mom, cooking in the kitchen on the other side of the wall, couldn’t hear a damn word.

That drove her crazy.

I’m the same way, only worse.

On a recent trip to Colorado, we booked Southwest Airlines. You know the drill. Cheap fares and the bags fly free.

But all those savings come with a cost. Because of a packed flight and cattle-car seating, our family was split. The wife and two kids had to sit in one row, I in the row in front of them.

So while I thumbed through the latest edition of SkyMall magazine, Jake regaled the girls with tales of university life.

My ears burned.

When the boy calls his mother from school, I feel left out.

“What’s he saying? What’s he saying?”

It’s a matter of wanting to be informed. When a child leaves the nest, you miss that daily contact. So upon his return, absorbing his every syllable is a must.

Does that make me a bad dad?

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