by Moshe Dann (July 2012)

"Hi, Abba." My 24-year old step-son, Yonatan ("Yonch") calls me. "I'm living in Maale Rechavam now. Want to visit?"

Delighted by the invitation, I was also apprehensive. We had drifted apart after his mother and I divorced a dozen years ago. After he'd graduated high school and joined the army I'd heard from him occasionally, hesitantly. Short conversations usually ended abruptly, his need for a relationship dangling on a string between us, a tightrope, my longing for him, for the closeness that I'd nurtured during the decade that I'd raised him and his two older brothers.  more>>>