I am blessed. I’ve had the blessing of remembering a wonderful time. A time of harmony. Of love. Of family. At the center of that family, I found my dad. His smile made me smile. At four, his coming home from work was the highlight of my day. He made me feel valued, chosen and loved. Not worshiped, but loved. There was a sense of reality in his love. I was no perfect little brat who could do no wrong. My father’s love for me was wise and unconditional. And because of that, I felt meaningful and special. Everyday, he would hug me and kiss me. He would pick me up, place me on the kitchen counter and kiss my mother, a long time. I remember watching them, my hands covering my face, but my fingers spread wide enough to see them. I watched them, grinning at them, feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and security. It was breathtaking. He did this every day I can remember. These were the days of what I call, “beforeness.” Beforeness is that sweet time in my childhood, when