I remember that day so clearly, its almost like itwas yesterday. I guess it's some weird form of cognition that keeps me from pushing the painful events of my childhood out of my brain. I distictivly rmember my mother standing in the doorway of this very house, hopelessly clinging to the infant in her arms. My father, not sparing me a glance as he rushed from room to room, making sure he wasnt leaving anything behind. At that moment my five year old brain wasnt capable of comprehending what was going on. Why was my mother crying? Where was my father going? Why was he taking my baby sister with him and not me? I remember my father's voice bringing understanding to my adolecent ears. "Give me the baby Adele," My father demanded of my mother. It was in my mothe's genetic make-up to do as she was told but it still shocked me to see her give the baby to my father without a fight. My father walked out of the door after that, nt even bothering to say goodbye. That was the last time I saw my father or my younger sister. Until today, that is. Today, after a nineteen year seperation, she was coming home.