Flash forward to now: my leaving a message to his old screenname, me wondering if he still used it. By some fluke his old girlfriend still logged into it for email. She was still in contact with him because of court visitations for their daughter, my half sister, Katya. She said she�d pass along my message and phone number to him�and just two hours later, after multiple tries, my father finally broke through the line with unbridled phone enthusiasm. We said hi for the first time in 4 years. I had to keep reminding myself I was talking to my father. He has a higher, more willowy voice than I do, the same sense of propriety in bringing up old baggage or issues and a determined, sometimes sarcastic way of looking at things. I couldn�t stop smiling talking to him, laughing at the appropriate, yet still genuine, moments. He�s been working as a glass artist doing etching and other detail work for the well-to-do and rich of Southern Florida (e.g. Boca Raton, the Grove, etc.). Katya is 7 now and asks about me all the time, wondering where her �long lost brother� is. A lot of my family moved there so we chatted about who was doing what, how his business was going and I slid into giving him some ideas/support about pursuing things he�d always wanted to do. I�ve had the same conversations with mom�and I guess I�m used to giving advice to them and blowing them away. These people used to be monoliths when I was a child.

I could be struck dead at this moment and I�d feel fulfilled, slightly regretful. I so rarely feel something this direct. I want to explode into shafts of white light, lost and absorbed into everything around me. I feel more whole, more stable, more me. Now I can find out what he�s been doing, where my sister is going in life and offer help where I can.

I haven�t been this happy since Jen came to visit.

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