el padre

At noon, I have to leave. I have already packed my bags, and set up my away from office email. I don’t know if Patrick knows that I won’t be back again. Honestly, I don’t think anyone in the office knows. I haven’t said a word to anyone about this trip, not even my family knows what is going on. 

My father will be waiting for me at the airport when I arrive. I don’t necessarily consider him family, but he is the one I am going to see. The first thing I will notice is how our facial features align. Genetics is a non-miss, how we replicate features of our being and attach them to new beings – leaving an inheritance, for better or worse, of the roots that extend down our lineage. 

These ears, and this nose, and the lips – they are from my mother. I wear my mothers eyebrows, her smile, her sad eyes. 

When I see him at the airport, he is waiting, staring off into the distance, searching. Maybe he doesn’t recognize me and I can sneak around behind him to surprise him. I marvel at this for a second, how distance forces us to search to that which was once so close. He has to scan the room, the many passengers, to see which one bears a resemblance. It’s me.

As I approach him, he catches on and smiles, opening his arms up for a hug. I land in close as we embrace, a father and son, who grew up removed from that role, so that he was only partially father, and I was partially son. I have never shared with him, or mom for that matter, how much I wanted those roles to be permanent. But I do not write the story, I merely tell it. And it wasn’t temporary. 

Now ponder that, the difficulty of being a part-time father/part-time son. Wanting to show and receive love, but growing old and heavy with hatred.

I didn’t know why, but that day it didn’t matter. What mattered was being there, taking the trip, making the move. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s