Going, Going, Gone

when Dad and Mr. Paul went out the front door for a stroll after dinner. it didn't strike me as odd. I help mom carry the dishes from the dinner table,and as I piled them in the sink,I saw the two men working down the driveway away from me. Mr Paul gesture with his hands as he spoke. Dad walked beside him, his hands linked behind his back his head low, listening intently

But it didn't seem odd to me ,and when I was done helping mom, I just went to the living room and switched on the TV's.

we' d had Mr Paul over for dinner before. he was I big, jovial man who had the habit of laughing himself red-face and then dabbing his forehead with his handkerchief while he caught his breath. if l'd been

more observant that night, I might have noticed that he laughed very little over dinner and that Dad had fallen silent a few times, staring into the middle distance and losing track of the conversation.

sometimes big was happening in the adult world and I - as usual - was clueless.

l'am 13 years old, and the world of adult doesn't offen make sense to me.why do grow ups spend hours driving to the beach only to sit under the umbrella and look at the waves ? why do they watch the news ever night on TV, when they could watch the Americans?

why do they worry so much about things they can't control?