Sunday, June 15, 2014

Lost and Found

I found her relatively easily, once I worked up the nerve to look. It took me another ten years after that to find him. Then five years passed before he was ready to find me back.

Today, I woke up in his guest bedroom and walked out into his kitchen. His was the first face I saw, and the first words I said were “Happy Father’s Day.” Today I hugged my father on Father’s Day--the simplest of acts, the most ordinary of exchanges between a daughter and father.

Except that it was never supposed to happen. Except that being together on Father's Day was a first for both of us.

We lost each other so thoroughly that it took us four and a half decades to find each other again.

But there we were. The art of finding may be hard to master, but it is not impossible. Today I walked into my father’s kitchen, on the feet I inherited from him, and claimed something I’d lost.
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