Jigsaw

I've been digesting, processing, & contemplating my dad's recent visit. Taking it all in, really. I met him just 10 months ago & it was for dinner at a noisy restaurant in Seattle with gobs of other new, never-before-seen family... & my friend Tia for moral support. The next morning we met again, briefly, for a simple sit-down breakfast at his home, with his amazingly hospitable, sweet wife, & one of my new brother's... & Tia for moral support.

And that was it.
We've skyped several times between then & now, facebook messaged plenty, one or two emails, & birthday card greetings.

But a face-to-face visit was called into action. I was so nervous upon his arrival. I wanted everything to go perfectly. What should I do when he's here? What sort of ways shall I entertain him? Where shall we go? What shall we see?

And what, by the way, does one do with a new dad?? 

I soon realized that I didn't want to go anywhere, or do anything extravagant, or waste time traveling here or there. I just wanted to be at home, chilling, doing what I usually do. The more relaxing, the better.
You know, the whole "creature in their own natural environment" thing.

 I cooked meals for supper. (Which usually freaks me out when visitors come. I try to escape to restaurant dining or I opt for popping frozen things in the oven.) But we sat 'round the rectangular dining table & ate together. Homecooked for reals.

We went on a shooting adventure with friends. 

He came to church & got to hear me play piano & sing.

We went to the girls' school & ate lunch with them in the cafeteria & then outside to play at recess.

We stayed up late chatting.

We played mind teaser puzzles & Pass-the-Pigs.

We went grocery shopping.

He read stories to the girls.
We laughed about stupid stuff. And kept laughing.

He watched movies & ate popcorn & drank hot cocoa with the girls.

I got to share my art with him. 

I got to see him draw.

I go to hug him goodnight. For 3 nights in a row.

He visited me at work & then he joined me, Susan, Scott & the girls in office chairs races out on the street.

My dad wore hats & bandanas. He has tats & chucks. (That's "tattoos" & "Chuck Taylors".) He's got a big personality. And a big beard. I've got his eyes. He's loud. He's comfortable around anyone. He likes to talk. And tell his stories. He's not shy.
He's an extremely talented artist. I've always {"always", as in "for 10 months"} been envious that I only got a teensy little bit of his talent. I guess that's better than nothing. But then he went on & on about how proud he is of me. And he called me a "woman of wonder". And then he told me he wishes he had even a pinky's worth of the talent I have. Which pretty much stumped me. It was fun to know that I have part of the same creative spirit he has.

It was so funny to have this "stranger" sitting in my living room & knowing he was my dad. He shared bits of the past, of new things I didn't know & of stories I'd heard before. When I was a kid, I loved hearing my mom tell the story about how I came to be a part of their family. And when I met my birth mother about 16 years ago, I cherished hearing the stories of my birth & her heartache & decision to let me go. And, last week, as I sat with my dad, I got more pieces to my puzzle. So, yeah. I guess that's what I've been doing this last week. Just puzzling things together.
♥