The sea rose in the night and never stopped. By morning the mountains were islands. Our city was gone. Then Sefu texted about Dad's will. We hadn't talked in three years, but the boathouse was still there. So we both showed up at dawn.

Sefu was already waiting. Sefu: 'You look like him now.' Me: 'Dad?' Sefu: 'Yeah.' It hit different than I expected. I'd been trying not to think about Dad. Sefu: 'You ready for this?'

Sefu sat down on the wet floor. Sefu: 'He told me he was proud of you. Near the end.' Me: 'He said that?' Sefu: 'I listened when you weren't around.' Me: 'Why didn't you tell me?' Sefu: 'I'm telling you now.'

Me: 'I'm sorry I wasn't here.' Sefu: 'I know.' We stood in silence. The boathouse creaked. Sefu: 'He built something down there. Something important.' Me: 'How do you know?' Sefu: 'I went down once. Three months ago.'

Me: 'It's alive? How is it alive?' Sefu: 'I don't know. But it grows. It changes.' Me: 'Why didn't you tell me immediately?' Sefu: 'Because I thought I was losing my mind.' Me: 'And now?' Sefu: 'Now I know you're finally here.'