When I was 12 an incredible thing happened. My dad dropped everything and took me, my three younger brothers and our pregnant mom to India.

At first, we lived on the side of a mountain in the foothills of the Himalayas. Then, two days after sister Liz arrived, Dad walked my brothers and me down the mountainside to boarding school and he, Mom and baby Liz took a 24-hour train ride to their new home.

Dad became "Doctor Sahib" at a remote mission hospital. He built a TB ward. But the colonial mission mindset wore him down. Two years later he brought us home. It was a noble effort, but very hard on our family-relationships frayed, siblings split apart.

But, years later, an unexpected invitation from a boarding school classmate, and a letter my dad never sent, brought renewed friendship, and a sense of understanding.

(Black and white interior edition)