Not long ago, I went shoe shopping with our daughter Katherine. It was a spontaneous outing, which is unusual for me because I am no longer a spontaneous man. I don’t shuffle my playlist, I don’t keep golf clubs in my trunk, and I don’t cross roads without a walk signal. I plan for everything, even joy and shooting stars, which is why my answer to the question “You wanna go with me to look for shoes?” surprised me.

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“Really?” Katherine said, and as if she needed further confirmation, she looked over the table at Karen, whose jaw went slack. Her mouth was open so wide I could have dropped a peach in it. Then, our two dogs raised their moppity heads from the cool tile floor as though they couldn’t believe I’d agreed to go either. 

“Really,” I said. “But I’m driving.”

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