A Knot in the Wood Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 2500 words

A Knot in the Wood - Essay Example We sat in an old cafe in the West Village, an easy walk from NYU. Last week, an airline special caught his eye and I had to cancel my plans to accommodate his last minute trip. I was supposed to be in Vermont with my boyfriend Josh, who took his roommate instead. At first, I had felt ambushed, but then I remembered who my father was; or, rather, who he wasn’t: not spontaneous, impulsive, or effusive. Dad hadn’t been to New York since his honeymoon and he kept pointing to buildings to explain their architectural significance, starting sentences that trailed off like dust behind a car. He wouldn’t commit to anything, like seeing a play, walking through Central Park, or spending a day at the Met. All the tourist things my classmates did with their parents. People said grief aged you, but not my father, still handsome with a full head of salt and pepper hair. He looked too young to have a daughter in her mid-twenties; too young to be a widower. Hunched over his coffe e, he asked how school was going. â€Å"I’m taking a series of art history because there’s this program in Barcelona. I thought maybe I could spend a semester there.† â€Å"It’s far away.† He had said the same thing about my summer trip to Amsterdam. When I finally got around to sending him the package of souvenirs along with a stack of snapshots, he offered a terse thank you and said I looked too thin in the photos. Now here he was. I glanced around the cafe. We were upstairs in a window seat, and I took turns watching the customers downstairs and the pedestrians on the street. The weather turned last night, and that afternoon everyone was bundled in hats and scarves. Wind blew garbage and leaves down the street. Halloween decorations still hung in a few shop windows. Below, two men stood on a corner, both smiling. I could see their breath when they spoke. I felt that nagging guilt that I shouldn’t have chosen a school so far away. I had st ayed close for college, a two-hour drive away, so I could come home at least one weekend a month. It had been just the two of us from the start. I underestimated how hard it would be on him. â€Å"Is that why you came? You want me to transfer?† â€Å"No. Absolutely not. But you should come home for the holidays.† â€Å"I’ll be home for Christmas.† He closed his eyes for a moment as though he was in pain or trying to remember something. â€Å"Dad?† His eyes popped open and for the first time since he’d been in town, I felt like he was really looking at me. I watched as he took in my face. Even though he didn’t say it anymore, I knew he was thinking of how much I looked like my mother. It was difficult being a carbon copy of someone who was dead. His face relaxed and now it was I unable to meet his eyes. I rotated my cup, swishing my coffee to even out the sugar before taking a sip. Maybe I should have dyed my hair brown or red--anythin g but my mother’s blonde. â€Å"Do you want to take a walk?† he asked. I inventoried his clothes: a sweater but no jacket. I doubted he had packed gloves or a scarf. â€Å"It’s getting cold. You think you’ll be warm enough?† He nodded. â€Å"I can always buy something.† We rose from our chairs and shuffled our way down the stairs. My father held the door for me, ushering me into the cold. My hair whipped around my face and I wrestled on my hat, a pale green felt one my father had sent in a care package. He smiled. â€Å"I’ve always liked you in that color.† â€Å"Thanks. Let’