In the wee hours of this morning...

My mother called us to invite us to lunch. We met at a small empty cafe. After greeting us she brings out our dad - who seems a little disoriented and shy. His hair is two-inches long again, and dark with flecks of gray. He wears a tee-shirt and old hunting shorts. His hands are folded in his lap as he looks at us briefly from across the table.

We all instinctively desire to embrace him and question him, but my mom holds us back and says, "He's only 3 days old," by which we all understand he has only just decided to live as a man again. Then she leaves us to be alone with him.

I tenderly brush the hair over my Soren's ear and tell him, "Remember about my dad? Remember how I told you that you had a grandfather but we just weren't able to see him? Here he finally is! This is your grandpa!"

Soren, with the innocence of a child, scrambles around the table climbing into his lap and giving him a great tender hug followed by three sweet kisses on the forehead. This sweet act embodies what the rest of us girls have wanted to do. My youngest sister, who had left him as for dead, dissolves into tears and follows Soren's lead, hugging and kissing and being embraced once more by her father.

After the crying and embracing is over he tells his story. Climbing into a taxi as Sarah, the driver studies his face and asks if his name used to be Mark. For some reason this recognition from what should be a complete stranger convinced him that Mark should not be forgotten. That though Mark's life had become quite difficult, it was still worth finishing well. That Mark was still right below the surface.

Elated, I wake up. I realize it is over. I realize he is still Sarah. I know it was just a dream, and yet, a dream where I spent the day with my dad and a family reunited...and so as irrationally as dreams sometimes can be, the memory was almost as pleasant as if it were real.