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often happens when the mother marries another man. We started out with a blank dance card, and anything we gained over the years had come from a not-so-fancy but definitely energetic two-step, where we learned to dance, if not in harmony, at least with considered respect for each other's toes and a touch of grace.

It seems to me that being a parent does not begin with biology or social role but a willingness to act on the belief that the small motions of life make the largest ripples. It is one thing to believe in and work for the great causes of humanity. It's quite another thing, and more difficult, to make sure that children grow up capable, at the same time, of being kind to other people and doing their own laundry. Living with Sarah and Michelle and Eliza had given me the chance to work on the small scale, to know first-hand the daily (even hourly) triumphs and disasters that go so far to mold character and possibility.

Being a Two-Step Father was not easy because no one had worn a previous path through the underbrush; I had to negotiate each step out of the tangle. But the sense of good feeling I got from the whole enterprise came from knowing that much of what I did did not massage my own selfish soul but helped someone else make choices that would (I hope) help them make their way in the world. Doing this made me feel self-full, and that liberated me from the shackles of my own ego. I imagined that people who plant trees have the same feeling: they will die before the tree they plant ripens, but they plant it anyway for the shade it will offer to people they'll never meet.

In a strange way being two steps away from Sarah and Michelle had brought me closer to them. We were good friends; we were acquired tastes; we were good dancing partners.

Learn more about this author, Michael Bettencourt.
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