To the sound of Star Trek's "First Contact" my dad and I sat and yakked about government conspiracies, the existence of aliens, and rips in the time space continuum. It's possible, we conjectured, that Star Trek is actually a government funded depcition of reality aired in an attempt to dissuade us from believing in extra terrestrial life through a sort of reverse psychology. Time travel is impossible, and it surprises us that someone as smart as Albert Einstein wasted any time on such a vain pursuit. The planet earth is a corrupt place as long as human beings inhabit it, and it will never be free of greed. Our conversation covered a lot of ground before my stepmom and her sister arrived to interrupt us with something dull and irrelevant.

Most importantly, my dad and I have been returning to the subject of God, our rejection of religion, and our personal responsibility to our neighbor. The meaning of life, the definition of success, the search for wisdom. My dad is someone who never fails to challenge me intellectually while encouraging me beyond measure. At least, it's been so for the last couple years. Between us there lies a mutual respect. Only after years of grief and heartache have we begun to relate as father and daughter.

Now he's snoring in the next room and I can't wait to have coffee with him in the morning, before he heads off to work.

Over the years I've found a lot of replacements for my dad, but nothing beats the real thing.