“No,” I started to cry, “But he does find his father.”
"You’re crying about a guy in your head?”
“I know, but aren’t you sad, yet happy for him, too?”
“Mother, you’re weird.”
“I know and I think I’m going to get even weirder.”
Silence said a lot of things to both of us for quite a few miles.
Five years later I have one manuscript in its final draft and two first drafts almost completed. This has earned me the clout in my house to be weird.