In 2019 Amy and I fly from Oregon to Kansas City to visit her family, and on the back porch of her parents’ home her father and I share a cigar. He asks me about real estate prices in Portland. He asks me how much money I imagine we’d need for a down payment. “Thirty grand?” he guesses. “Forty?” I don’t immediately grasp the point toward which he seems to be telegraphing. Portland real estate is a topic of interest for most of our out-of-town family and Amy’s father is well-known for his conversational non sequiturs.

Originally published May 2021 in The Sun.

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