Ellie and Eddie’s daughter, Darcy, is our next stop. She’s going to show her parents around the University of Houston campus, and I know how much they’ve been looking forward to seeing her again. I’m excited to see her too. She once came and stayed with Ruth and me when all our parents were out of town for a couple of nights, and gave us both manicures and pedicures. It’s been a while since we’ve seen her.

Houston is also where I’ve planned the Something Old portion of our trip. I did my research, and Houston has a great dinosaur museum.

“It’ll be fun to see Darcy again,” I say.

“Oh man, yes,” Eddie says. “Seeing her and Ellie together … I could be content just watching that for the rest of my life.”

I’m not used to being talked to this way, without any hint of condescension or aloofness, the way most adults talk to kids my age. But Eddie is easy to talk to. He never makes me feel my own awkwardness.

“It’s really great when they’re happy,” I say softly. I glance back at the RV. I think he knows what I mean.

“The best,” he says.

“That concert was really cool tonight,” I say. “I think everyone really liked it.”

“Those guys are something, aren’t they?”

A light breeze blows past, and frogs are performing a symphony out there in the trees. The music really was amazing, and Ruth soaked it all in. For a little while, she was enthusiastic and everything was okay. I want so badly to hear what’s going on in Ruth’s head. It’s like there’s some song in there I just can’t hear.

I wish it was possible to take a picture of somebody else’s thoughts.

“Eddie?” I say.

“Hmm?” His eyes are closed, his voice tired.

“Remember that thing you said about, like, one person’s Vincent van Gogh and all that?”

“Sure.”

“So … why? How come it’s like that? Why aren’t we all seeing the same thing? And if we’re all seeing things differently, how do you know what people think or … or feel, when you can’t see what each other is seeing? When you don’t think you can understand at all even when you try?”

He opens his eyes and turns to me.

“Explain what you mean,” he says.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. “Well,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “I mean, we’re all different, right? We’re all … seeing things differently even when we’re seeing the same thing.” I inhale the wet air. “So … how do you? How do you see the same thing?”