My dad arrived in town last night to visit.
I didn't get to see him until this morning. I was running late (the usual; the closer you are to something, the later you'll be) and came clomping down the stairs in my boots to find my dad sitting in front of the desk. He looked the same as I remember, the white beard, the carefully selected clothes, the stylish shades. He also looked completely comfortable and relaxed - he fit in perfectly. When my mom showed up, I remember feeling completely weirded out by her presence. I was glad to see her - but it was a colliding worlds moment. Not so with my dad. He fits perfectly.
I brought him to breakfast and a FYP lecture. Even though I am no longer a FYPer, I knew that a FYP lecture would be the best way to let my dad see what King's is all about. We planned his visit so he could see the lecture today, by one Wayne Hankey, and he did not disappoint. My dad loved it.
We poked around on campus, he saw my room, and we went out to grab a sandwich for lunch. I invited him to sit in on my afternoon class (it's only nine people, but he met my prof in the FYP lecture, and the prof invited him too) but he wanted to take off and look around Halifax. Here I'd been worrying about entertaining him, keeping him interested - I forget how good my dad is at doing that for himself.
We're going to the High Mass at the chapel this evening, so he can experience that and meet some of my friends. After dinner, he'll turn in early and I'll get some work done and we'll do it all over again tomorrow.
"You have a nice life here, it seems," my dad said over lunch.
I guess I do. But it's weird to think about this being a life. A separate life. To me, Ottawa, Halifax, it's all my life. It's all part of the same thing. But to my parents, it's a separate life. It doesn't include them. At times like these, I miss them extra, even when they're right next to me, on the end of the phone or in my city.