[It's not all that often Ches gets to enjoy a comfortable silence, so he doesn't break it right away. There are always people talking back home, a natural side effect of living with over a dozen people who have various outgoing personalities and lots of opinions.

The man comes along willingly enough, and Ches guides him to the barn, shows him where he can leave his horse, where the hay and oats are, and then heads his way toward the house, glancing back as the man finally breaks the silence.]

You'd think that, looking at it. And it was, for the most part. At least after my parents passed, they were a bit of a handful. Nowadays it's a little less so. Things just happen so much, as the kids say.