there they were

Together they looked the same, like two pieces that went together always - a salt and pepper shaker set. One was not the same without the other. Standing on their own, they stood fine and looked normal but different.

He wasn't tall, but certainly not short. His silver hair and slightly furrowed brow intimidated me the way I knew my own father intimidated people he deemed lower than he - retail employees - who I was in the eyes of this man. As our conversation continued I saw his jaw slacken a little, the wrinkles eased and his brow unknotted itself and his smile began to shine through. He had begun to trust me. I knew this because they were the same steps my father goes through when dealing with someone. Expect no intelligence until it has been determined and proven, but once said person proves their intelligence he is quick to respect, trust and laugh. I knew this man. I knew him like the girl standing next to him knows him. His daughter. I knew her too. The way she respected and loved her father, I knew the jokes they shared only between them that could be told in a secret language without words and only eyebrow raises. I knew the bond that was tying them together because I have that too even though it's so far away.

It took everything in me to not walk out on them, out the front door, and sit on that bench to call my father and feel my tears freeze on my cheek in the bite of winter. I miss him and our banter, secret language and challenging conversations. That connection, I miss that. "Well laur, I'll miss having another adult to talk to in the house" is what he said to me when I told him I'd be moving soon. I never thought it would happen, but there I was, my father had become one of my best friends. It sounds cliche but it's so real. There are things I don't have to say or ask for understanding on, things I know will never be spoken of or judged because he gets it and knows that sometimes you have to be twenty two, or sixteen, or seven. He knows that sometimes you make mistakes and learn from them and pick yourself up carry yourself off and never even tell your parents, but he still knows what happened because he did it too.

So often I feel so gifted to have the parents I do and the father I do have. Fathers are so important, so crucial, and mine is the best one there is. No contest.