"We kinda take it time about," I replied. "Dad is a much better cook than me, but when he's working, I try to do most of the cooking. After all, I'm the woman of the house," I added, flatly.

The grin fell from his face. I thought, for a moment, that he was going to cry, but he turned back to the stove.

We ate in silence. I did tell him that the food tasted good and thanked him for cooking. We finished, he gathered the dishes, and loaded them into the dishwasher.

As he did so, I went into the living room with my coffee and turned the TV...