We bounced all the way there, our childlike enthusiasm unwavering. It was childlike, not least of all, because we were children then. The days were full of enigmas, but none of them held any weight; indeed, ours was a world of feather-light gravity and constant intrigue. Our spirit was hardly dampened by our father’s constant grimace and perpetual awareness of the drudgery of his daily life. He didn’t ask to be tied down, and to have his every move revolve around others who were utterly dependent. We could hardly detect such things back then. In any event, he was there, and he was trying. So what if he didn’t want to be there?
Looking back, we didn’t want him there either.