As my sister, Jana, tells it, my father and I had one long conversation
that spanned thirty-four years. “From the time I remember, you and dad
were always talking—about the world, about sports, about everything,”
she told me recently. My dad often told us that he assumed that he would
have sons, but he ended up with girls. He eventually adjusted. I was his
firstborn; I became his mission.
See the rest of the story at www.newyorker.com
Source: Cultures & Arts