"I decided I'm going."
"To what?" I asked.
"To my mother's."
"Good for you," I told him. Was it that big of a deal?
"Do you talk to your parents?" he asked.
"Yes, everyday."
"That's impressive," he smiled and looked to the sky, "I wish I could do that."
"You could if you wanted to," I pointed out. His parents were still alive.
"True, but I don't know where to start."
I glanced at him. He wore a conflicted expression. "You have the dinner. Start there."
He exhaled. "I'll try."
