Heading out Montrose towards Lake Shore Drive and the sunrise, the boys all keen with the momentum of a thing begun, sit wide-eyed and quiet in their seats. Tucker says, "Where we going Mom?" The beach. Carolina. Manimama's house. We've been talking about this for weeks, so this morning I answer differently, putting it in the day's context. "Kentucky." "What Tucky?" he counters, eyebrows triangular. "KEN-tucky," I repeat. "I'M Tucky," he declares. Everybody laughs. Tucker's joke. A fine omen. A trip begun.