"Sure I do," I replied, peeling a carrot over the sink. I wasn't really hungry but I knew I'd better eat. You see, I'm diabetic and I can't let myself get too hungry. Being diabetic means eating a lot of small meals and healthy snacks throughout the day. And I do mean healthy snacks. Sugar can send my body into orbit.

    Serious stuff. I could go into a coma, even die, if I cheat on treats. So I watch what I eat, test my blood sugar level regularly, and give myself insulin injections every day.

    There's no doubt about it. Having diabetes is a major drag.

    Having divorced parents is a drag, too.

    But, hey, those are the facts of my life, so I might as well make the best of things. Most of the time I don't let the divorce or the diabetes get me down.

    "Want a carrot?" I asked, turning back to Robert.

    "No, thanks." Robert sat at the kitchen table. "Do you think you'll move back to the city when you're older?" "I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe. Probably." Robert sighed comically. "You'll leave all us country folk behind and go for the glamour," he teased.

    "You're not exactly Farmer Rob," I pointed out as I sat beside him.

    "I know, but I wouldn't like living in the city. I've only been there a few times and it seemed so noisy and big." "Who cares about a little noise? And the bigness makes it exciting," I countered.

    "No, the city isn't for me." "I bet I could make a city lover out of you," I said, lightly squeezing his hand. "You just haven't seen the good parts yet. You need someone like me to guide you. For example, during the day Broadway looks sort of seedy but at night, when it's all lit up, it's magic." "I've never even been to Broadway, Stacey." "Well, then someday we'll go.