“Hey! There will be no need for insults. Why are you so persistent on moving me anyway? I thought you loved it here. You grew up here…”

       “I know…”

       “Memories are here. Our whole lives are here…” I got up and threw away my sandwich. I wasn’t hungry anymore.  

       “Exactly. But isn’t change good, as well? Maybe even better?”

       “Not always,” he replied.  I dried my hands as I shut off the sink.  “Are you sure this isn’t an attempt to help your self, as well?” he asked all of a sudden. I turned to face him, leaning my hand back and then yanking it forward.

       “We need to move on, dad.”

       “What do you mean?” he asked. He stared at me, his eyes melting. I knew this was an uncomfortable subject for him. But if we didn’t talk about it now, would we ever?

       “You only remain here because you’re afraid mom will be mad.”

       “That’s not true—

       “Yes it is and you know it. Dad, mom’s dead. She’s been dead for five years now. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you moving on in your life. In fact, I think she would want you to. And no matter how many times you argue with me, I know this house makes you miserable.  You’re a prisoner here, for crying out loud!”  My hand instantly went to mouth as I realized what I had just said. It had all come out at once, like water being spilt from a glass that was put upside down.  There was no way to defy gravity.

       He didn’t say anything; just sat there, his eyes staring out into space. I never wished for what happened next, not in a million years. If I had known what was going to occur in the next few seconds, I would have never said any of those words.