I was sitting on the right edge of the couch. Dad was on the love seat perpendicular to me. We somehow got into a discussion about what I was going to do with my life after high school--which schools was I going to apply to and what would I study? At the time I really had no idea what I wanted to pursue. I had so many deserving interests and ample talent to do whatever it was I chose. 

I told him that I was leaning towards culinary school but that it didn’t really matter because I didn’t have a lot of choice. The only school I could afford was BYU-Idaho. Then I said something I sort of regret. I said, “Dad, how do other people afford to go to school? Either they go in debt or their parents pay for it.” Whenever I think of this moment, it breaks my heart. There was a gentle sadness in his countenance and his eyes looked at me with yearning and sorrow. My dad, who works so hard, who loves me so much, who has devoted his life to his family, fell short. At least he seemed to feel that way, and I will always be sorry for how I brought that feeling upon him. But I will also always be grateful for the chance to see how much my father truly cares for me and how much he wishes for me to succeed and accomplish my dreams.