"So, Mike, talk to me." Finished with his appointment book, Dad now wanted to have one of those conversations. I felt a slight smile creep onto my face as I sensed a familiar ritual begin to unfold.

"About what?" I said, priming the inevitable response.

"About you! What's going on? How you're feeling about graduate school, Lindsay, me, us, the family, everything." My dad loved having this kind of getting-to-the-heart-of-things talk. I reached down to turn on the air conditioner and tried to decide whether I wanted to really talk about something or just bullshit.

"Well, things are good." I said, opting for the latter, "Lindsay and I are really happy and my first year of graduate school was great. I think I'm worried about having to live apart from Lindsay next year, but we'll manage."

"And what about the move to psychology?"

This was a good question, but one I didn't want to go into. Three years ago, I was working at an international venture-capital firm, before going back to grad school in clinical psychology.

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