Mike opened up the paper and perused the box scores from the previous evening. He was having a hard time with Jeannie's imminent departure. It seemed like yesterday when she left for the first day of kindergarten. He was so proud of her and knew she was ready to leave the nest, but he wasn't quite ready to let her go. She reminded him more and more of Helen every day, and the prospect of her leaving for school filled him a deep sense of loss. Finishing the paper, he tossed it in the trash and left the kitchen to pack his own overnight bag for the long drive to Arizona.

Now up against the deadline, Jeannie spent the next hour randomly chucking objects into boxes, figuring that anything she missed Mike would mail. She sealed the boxes that were remaining in San Francisco with tape and slid them into the empty closet. She move the other boxes into the hall and filled her green and white flowered suitcase with toiletries, jewelry and a few remaining articles of clothing. She looked around the room, now denuded of belongs. A legal tablet, with a half-finished letter sat on her desk, the only object out of place.

Thinking about her memory-laden night, Jeannie looked around for the bandana, which she had lost sight of in her final flurry of packing and realized she'd left it in the kitchen. She grabbed her coffee cup and trod down the stairs, hoping Mike had vacated. A sigh of relieved escaped when she got to the empty room, rinsed her cup and picked up the wash-worn red cloth. She heard Mike puttering in his room as she climbed the stairs.

Now or never Jeannie thought sitting down at her desk to complete the letter to Mike. Idly stroking the cloth, she put pen to paper, trying to find words that conveyed the depth of her love for her dad. She was just finishing when she heard Steve's knock at the front door. Creasing the letter, she slipped it into an envelope and wrote MIKE in bold letters across the face. The noise in the hall told her that Mike and Steve were carrying the boxes downstairs. After a few minutes, she carefully folded the red bandana and laid it on the bed with the note and looked around, saying a final goodbye to her life that was. As excited as she was for the next chapter, leaving was still difficult.

Silently closing the bedroom door, leaving the note that she hoped would say more* she carried the last box out to the car. Steve put it in and slammed the trunk closed. He gave her a quick hug and well wishes before driving off. Mike locked the front door and got into the driver seat with a terse, "Let's get a move on."

00000

Almost 24 hours later, Mike pulled up in front of the house road weary and emotionally numb. The trip to Arizona had been filled with nervous chatter. Jeannie, cheerful but edgy, talked about everything and nothing for hours on end. Mike listened and commented in all the right places, neither were willing to talk about what they were actually feeling or thinking. Once the car had been emptied and her belonging moved into the dorm, Mike hugged his daughter fiercely. He told how proud he was and how much he loved her, wished her luck and left quickly to avoid being swallowed by emotion; her final "Love you, Daddy," near undoing him. Originally planning to layover, he made the return trip instead, arriving at DeHaro Street before sunrise Thursday morning.

He unlocked the door and entered the now empty house. He went into the kitchen and made coffee. While waiting for the percolator to finish its morning symphony, he went upstairs and dropped his case on the bed and took a quick wake-up shower. Despite the fact that he had the day off, he dressed in his customary shirt, and tie. Before returning to the kitchen, he unconsciously knocked on Jeannie's door. Shaking his head at his conditioned action, he opened the door part way and stood just outside the room, gaping at the deserted space, now generic minus Jeannie's possessions. Opening the door a little further, he caught sight of the red cloth and the envelope with his name on it in the middle of the bed. He retrieved the items, padded downstairs and poured a cup of coffee.

The quiet in the house was like an unwelcome guest in Mike's psyche. He drank his coffee and stared at the letter and bandana for a long time before opening it. Finally, he put on his glassed, tore the envelope and laid it flat on the table in front of him.

Dear Daddy,

I don't even know where to begin. I know we have been tiptoeing around my leaving for the past weeks. I appreciate how hard it has been for you to see me go, particularly in light of losing mom. Thank you for loving me enough to let me follow my dreams and giving me the opportunity to fly away from you.

You are incredible. Strong when you need to be but also fun and loving and oh so very passionate about the law and the things and people that are important to you. I wish you would show that more, rather than your gruff exterior. Funny thing is, it took a stranger to point out how much you loved me 4 years ago when I only saw my square, old man. Mom really knew what she was doing when she got those concert tickets for us.

Mike paused and used the bandana to wipe the tears that were moistening his eyes and continued to read.

You asked me about the bandana, well here's the story. When we went to the Beatles' Concert, as you recall, things were not exactly going too well. After you left to break up the fight, I half considered ditching you and finding my friends, but the look in your eyes told me not to leave. Just before the Beatles started to play, a young man (He was really handsome, had long hair and a beard, probably a college guy, that's why I didn't tell you about him) sat down next to me. I was crying about mom and he gave me his red bandana to wipe my eyes. Then he just listened as I ran on about all the things that were going on In My Life. After I stopped blubbering, we sat and enjoyed the concert together. When he saw you come down the aisle, he told me something amazing.

I don't know if you remember what I asked you that night when we got back to the car.

Mike thought back to that night but couldn't recall the question. All he remembered was the feeling of despair and fear at the sight of the ambulance in front of the house. He did recall however that the evening had been a turning point in their relationship.

He said that All You Need is Love. I asked you if you believed that, and you said that you did. We made a decision that night to try to get along for mom and for us. The next couple of months were really, really hard. I carried this bandana with me every day as a reminder of the promise I made to you and as reminder of how much you really loved me. Eventually, as things got better, I put it away somewhere safe and I only found it again this morning.

I want you to carry this with you, as a reminder of how much I love you. And if you don't mind taking advice from your 18 year old daughter, you need to find someone to listen to you, the way that stranger listened to me. I don't want you to be lonely, dad. First you had mom, and then we had each other after she died, but no matter how strong you are, you need someone to lean on sometimes and I think Steve might just be that person. Even though I don't know him well, I have a feeling that you and he could really be good for each other, despite the difference in your ages.

Remember Daddy, that no matter how old I get and how far away I go, I'll always love you and I'll always be you little girl.

All my Love,

Jeannie

PS I left a casserole in the fridge, you are really going to have to learn to cook at some point, Mike. JS

Mike sat in silence, weeping openly. How on earth had he managed to raise such an intelligent, insightful human being?

TBC

*"She's Leaving Home" by Lennon/McCartney 1967

A/N: "She's Leaving Home" is the only Beatles' song on which the lads played none of the instruments, being only accompanied by a strings arrangement. The song is loosely based on a true story.

Lest you doubt the power of the beard to mask one's identity, I give you two examples. One: My husband has worn a beard most of my adult children's lives. When he shaved it off this year, the kids swore they would have not recognized him on the street (I agreed with them). Two: I worked with someone in Philadelphia who was clean shaven, for a number of years. Several years after that, I met him bearded at a party in Los Angeles. I didn't realize that I actually knew him until the next day. So in my mind, Mike and Jeannie not realizing that they had briefly met Steve 4 years earlier is totally plausible. In the original story, Steve only saw Mike from a distance for a few seconds and Jeannie was only 14. So I'm giving him a pass as well. Plus it's more fun this way, so sue me. MBC