Her self-centredness was proved again when she repeatedly flaked on her plans to visit me after Mum died, barely calling to see how I was, busy with herself on silent retreats and full-moon gatherings.

Melody is accompanying me to Alaska because Paula, last minute, said she couldn’t fly. She’s pregnant and needed to stay home on bed rest—doctor’s orders. I didn’t want Melody to come, but Paula was worried about me changing planes in a huge airport like Los Angeles, and even though I could have travelled as an unaccompanied minor, we already had the extra ticket. Besides, the thought of travelling on my own scared me too.

I’m angry my father abandoned Mum and me, excited to see him and also terrified we won’t like each other, or even feel like a father and daughter at all. I’m on an emotional roller-coaster way bumpier than any plane turbulence and there’s no exit row, inflatable slide or oxygen mask.

I’m contemplating this when I hear a voice, and I pull out my earbuds.

Preparing to land in Anchorage, Alaska, the announcement says. Please fasten your seatbelts, restore your tray tables and return your seats to the upright position.

I stop biting my nails and tug the latch, making my seat lurch forward. I nudge Melody awake. She snorts and rubs her eyes. The TV screen shows our plane over Anchorage. My stomach groans again as I imagine my father waiting at the airport.

If only reality would match my fantasy—he’d be warm and loving, but in a sensitive way, and regretful for all the time he’d lost with me, and he’d have an unbelievably good explanation for why he’d never been part of my life. We’d have lots in common, talk easily— no awkwardness—and when I was in a quiet mood, I wouldn’t need to speak, it’d be that natural. I’d feel with him, like … like I was home.

The plane lands with a thud and I press my nose to the window. The runway is painted white with snow. Another first to add to my list.

As we gather our bags and jackets from the overhead lockers, my fear is replaced with such intense excitement it makes me think of my dog, Bella, when she wags her tail so hard her whole body dances.

We follow the other passengers out of the plane. They’re all American, and baseball caps must be the national uniform.

‘How are you feeling, love? You must be scared,’ Melody says as we walk through the terminal, following the exit signs.

I nod. Since we left, I’ve barely said a word to her.

‘Stay in the moment,’ she says. ‘No past and no future. Mindfulness is crucial at a time like this.’

Whatever. She’s hardly Dr Phil, let alone the Dalai Lama.