My father drove down from Northern California for a short visit on Wednesday. He took me out for dinner at a high-end French restaurant that probably cost more than what I spend on eating out in a month (I've never seen Wild Boar on a menu, let alone eaten it...). Dinner with my dad was great and made me realize both how much he has grown (which is weird to say about your father), and I've gotten used to drinking cheap wine (you can really tell once you start drinking the good stuff).

In the past few years, my father has undertaken the task of intense self-reflection and personal growth, and now says and does things that make me think, "Who is this person?" It's like an Invasion of the New Age Body Snatchers...

I have always thought my father was a very intelligent, creative, and well-read man, but never felt particularly heard or "seen" (therapy word) and, finally, just resigned myself to the fact that emotionally availability in a male of his generation was just too much to ask. I felt like the Lisa Simpson of my family. The voice of reason in a cacophony of self-interest. Not that it was a healthy way to be, as is evident now that I'm 36, I'm single, childless, and happiest when in close proximity to salsa, coffee, and Forever 21 (not necessarily in that order).

I guess what I have seen is that for better or worse, people do change. And when it's for the better all you can do is be grateful.

Just for today, I can spend time with Dad of the Year.