Sean followed his father to his bedroom where he slowly lowered himself to sit on the edge of his bed. He opened the drawer on the bedside table and withdrew a small photo album Sean had never seen before. As he flipped through the pages, Sean caught glimpses of aunts and uncles, Dad’s old police partners, Christmases and Thanksgivings. He finally stopped and turned the album around, handing it to Sean and pointing at a Polaroid in the corner of the page. “Recognize that?” he asked.

He’d never seen the photo before but he recognized it instantly. The skinny teenager waving over the railing of a second story balcony was an 18 year-old Sean Mullins. He remembered Mom pointing the giant camera out the car window and snapping the picture as Dad drove away. It was August, 1980, and they were headed home to Florida and he was staying to start college in Boston.

“You mother looked at that photo and cried for a hundred miles. I kept telling her not to worry, you’d be fine. And you were. People move on, Son, it’s called life. I was lucky enough to get a few extra years with you and Kathy and Stacey, but I’m not going to cry when you leave. Because there’s nothing to be sad about. Besides, with you and Kathy out of the picture I might just stay up playing poker and smoking the occasional cigar!”

His dad’s laughter was contagious, and Sean couldn’t help but chuckle. He looked back at the long-haired boy in the picture and recalled how he too had been excited at the prospect of new-found freedom. But when he’d stepped off the balcony he’d been surprised at his reaction. Alone, the house full of familiar furniture traded for a dorm room with a few important belongings, and only a telephone to connect him to the people who had been part of his daily life for years. He couldn’t help but see what his father saw, that their roles were now perfectly reversed. He wondered if his dad would feel as overwhelmed as he had.