It seemed impossible to think that I may never see Norm again. I thought about the kite that we bought at a grocery store and flew in the spring gusts until it was a mere speck in the blue sky. I remembered our discussion about the importance of seat belts, after which a love-smitten, one-armed Don Juan nearly forced us off the road. I thought about the many times he pitched to me, saying, "Keep your eye on the ball!," and how we rumbled up the street to K Mart on low-budget shopping sprees. I did not have Tracy's address, so letters would be a pointless effort. My mind began to create images, concocting chance encounters and elaborate dialogues. I pictured his tall form striding from a store into the sun-bathed parking lot; I would run to him despite the protests of my parents. The image would dissolve and another would take its place. This time, I saw him while I was alone; I was able to obtain his phone number and address, and planned to keep in touch. Again the fantasy would fade. I wondered fearfully whether the years would so change his facial appearance that I would fail to recognize him. Nothing and no one in life was immune to change; features, health, relationships...everything could bloom or wither in an instant. Many thoughts flooded my mind during the next week. I considered my parents and their steadfast values, and understood their torment. Their son was about to embark on a lifestyle which they viewed as morally wrong. After 20 years of guidance, Norm's action was translated as an injustice done to them. Often I heard my dad describe an incident, remarking, "If the kid really loved his parents, he wouldn't have done (it) out of respect for them." I had been raised under the same school of thought, and, until my views had been tested, my stance on various issues usually echoed those of my parents. Following the incident with my brother, however, I could no longer believe that cohabitation without marriage was so wrong that the act should tempt a parent to disown his son, especially if the two cohabitants loved each other. Had Norm been a promiscuous lout who flitted from one woman to the next merely for the purpose of filling his primal needs, I would have agreed that his irresponsibility demanded punitive action. As I reflected over my silent disagreements, I wondered why Norm and Tracy couldn't get married. If their life was to be shared, why didn't they just marry to please society? Sure, the legality may only have been a grand joke to Tracy, but if it saved certain relationships, was it not worth the trouble? Moreover, Norm had always avoided involving himself in a scene which would direct undue attention. I found the current circumstances rather odd and out of character, for "shacking up" was a relatively new phenomenon to strike the midwest. I had no answers, and my questions had no ear to rest upon. It was best not to dwell on that which I could not hope to change.