Over the summer, we had only communicated by writing letters. Now, I decided that if we couldn’t talk face to face, then we would do the next thing to it. The only number I had was our home phone number, and I didn’t even know if my father was residing at our house. But I decided to give it a try anyways. I nervously dialed the number on a telephone in the parlor. Should I even be doing this to begin with? I thought to myself. Perhaps the sooner I see him, the sooner things will start to make sense. But what if he doesn’t want to see or talk to me? What if he thinks that I don’t want to see him? Oh, honestly, Essie! He’s your father! He’s been missing you like crazy. Don’t you know? In the midst of my paranoid contemplation, I had agreed to place a long distance call to Indiana, U.S.A. Was I crazy? Why couldn’t I just write a letter as I had for the past two months? I took a deep breath. After countless rings, the phone finally picked up.