If she'd been paying attention I'm sure she would have seen the anger in my face. Our house was no prison. Hell, I didn't even want to buy it. I thoug...t it was too big and too expensive, but once she saw it, she just had to have it. Now I'm fighting like hell to keep it and she's calling it a fucking prison. I had a choice; I could either open my mouth and tell her just what I thought of her analogy, or walk away. I chose the latter.Over the next couple of months, things between Lori and me got. Seeing a woman my own age talking to my father as his wife was more than a little disconcerting–after all, Dad was forty-eight years old!But I was busy going around town re-establishing old friendships and seeing the old familiar sights.Of course, my first stop was to see Mom's grave and I spent some time sitting there talking with her. Which made me feel better. I brought her a bouquet of pink roses, her favorite flowers, and put them in the vase in her headstone. After seeing Mom I went and. More

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