A Familiar Stride

October 18, 2010

I click on the “play” triangle and watch the video. My friend had filmed his walk from the Indian Consulate in Manhattan, scanning the three-block-long line to where his wife waited.

All at once I’m riveted to the sight of an approaching figure. A white male, heavy set, bald, over six feet tall. My stomach flips and, against all reason, my mind screams “Dad!”

I know. I truly know in my brain and in my gut that it is not my father. I know because I saw him take his last breath in February of 2008. But my heart says it’s him striding towards me; and the small child he called Beep wants to wave her arms and draw his attention to the camera.  She wants him to see her as if he’s been looking for her all along.

The grownup me knows that the man not my father, but I just can’t tell that child not to hope.

A nice thing… the momentary flash of  “maybe” in a glimpse of the familiar. Who knows? Maybe…


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6 Responses to “A Familiar Stride”

  1. I have seen many ghosts in my day. Who knows?

  2. melissa moore said

    Ah sarah, this one hit me in the heart. I have these moments, too. Sometimes they are so real that they throw me off for awhile…or make me believe in something bigger.

  3. Geoff Woollacott said

    Neat. My dad died when I was 8. Don’t remember his voice or his gait. But I have that those flashes with others no longer in my life. I get that “jolt” you describe.

  4. Laura said

    I think that your dad would love the fact that remembering him triggered you to write…That familiar feeling is so odd when it happens. Who knows, maybe we are given glimpses…

  5. OwlSaysWho said

    It never ceases to amaze me what “little” things cause that kind of memory pang . . . a scent, an expression, a stride. A little flash, and we take a whole journey.

  6. Annie said

    “Sometimes, you get what you need.”

    (I didn’t make that up … just sayin}

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