Today I Meet My Father

Today I meet my father.

I did not know him for 22 years. I knew his accent. I knew that he ate food weirdly. I knew that he was different, but I did not know him.

A few days ago, I explored the airport in Hong Kong. I was supposed to meet dad upstairs to eat. I could not find him, so I sat down. I hear someone cough. It sounds like my dad’s cough, so I turn around. It’s an older Chinese man. I begin to eat. Soon I hear someone laugh. It sounds like my dad, so I turn around. It’s not my dad. I continue to eat. I see a man with dark skin and a shirt like my dad’s. I begin to call to him, but realize he is not my dad.

But we were not in the Philippines yet.

I am in the mall with my cousin. My dad is at home and will not be with us until later. I hear someone speaking Bisaya. I think it is my dad but it is not. I hear someone greet a friend and it sounds familiar. It is also not my dad. My dad is not at the mall, and I know he is not, but I think every sound is him.

In the United States I hear a familiar cough from across the room, it is my dad. I am at the supermarket and I hear someone laugh. It is my dad. I recognize him without knowing he was at the store. Last week I was sitting with a cap and gown ready to graduate. Through the crowd of photographers I easily found my dad. He is the dark skinned man with the phone attached to his waist. I recognize him because he is different.

What was familiar to me is that my dad is not usual. That’s what made him familiar. Here, in the Philippines, he is no longer familiar. I do not recognize him by his accent because here he does not have one. I do not recognize him by his skin because here everyone has dark skin. I did not know my dad’s cough had an accent, but it must, because here I do not recognize it.

Today my father is no longer weird. He is no longer defined by how he is different from me. This place and these experiences have redefined my dad. Today I meet my father.