A Father visits his daughter

My father is on a plane, probably over Iceland, as I write this. I will pick him up in a couple of hours.

It's been a year to the day since last I saw him, May 10th, 2005. Waiting over coffee in the main hall at Bradley Terminal, me with a mocha with whip and him with his standard tall latte, waiting till the last possible minute before I dragged myself tearfully up a long narrow gate and turned to wave one last time.

The guy at the baggage x-ray noticed my red face and puffy nose and wordlessly passed me a kleenex box, as though he did it all the time, a gesture which made me laugh, a little embarassed, in spite of my howls.

It's the one thing I don't like about living abroad. The one thing. I miss my family.

I promised myself I would never go a year without seeing my parents. I may yet still be able to keep that promise.

My father hasn't been to Europe in 25 years, doesn't travel much. Likes his morning coffee in a travel mug with Boeing written on the side, while flipping through the LA Times, in his baseball cap.

For him to trek across a continent and an ocean to see his daughter, it just means so much.

I will cry when I see him, and I will cry when he leaves. My father means so much.

I've had a weird nervous sensation since last night. Somewhere inside me, I just want his approval. I want him to like where I live, what I'm doing, my life. I want him to like our little apartment. My gaze sweeps with mild irritation over the layer of dust in the entryhall that has been there for a month, from the construction workers' constant drilling and pounding on the downstairs cafe, neverending.

What this all means is I probably won't blog for a week or so, although I probably will still put up some moblog pictures, since that doesn't take too much time. Otherwise, it's Sightseeing City for a whole week.

In the meantime, may I suggest that you direct your attention this way to my friend Catty's new blog, Paris is an Old Dog, a fellow expat in Paris who is new to the blogosphere and a wonderful writer. I was thoroughly entertained while reading about her experiences as an Australian expat living in London for a few years and her current adventures navigating the cobblestone jungle, and I am looking forward to reading more...