This time I banged on the door softly. Yet, there is no response. Then I banged on the door hard.After a few seconds, the door opened. To my surprise,...I was welcomed by my irritating father.“Why are you banging on the door? Can’t you wait?” he asked.“I am feeling hungry,” I blabbered something.He looked at me for a moment. I ignored him and started removing my shoes. I was waiting for my mom to come out. I wondered what she was doing inside. I walked inside, following my dad a few moments. .. did nothing to ease my conscience.By the time we had arrived at the bistro and were seated, we had been talking so easily and freely with each other...so much like we had always talked together over the years... that when she ordered without consulting me it felt as natural as it always had. She had been ordering for me whenever we ate together throughout the time I had known her, even when our husbands were with us. And while the first time she did it I had been a bit taken aback, I. More

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