Unfamiliar Familiarity

Knock, knock knock!

My hand raps the wooden door. I'm not sure this was a good idea coming here. The door looked welcoming. There is a warm light creeping out from underneath the door. My knocks seem to echo in the night.

It would appear place doesn't have a great deal of furniture. I sigh. Is anyone home? Part of me wants to leave the porch and return to my trail. But yet...my feet stay planted and my hand raises again...

Knock, knock, knock!

The warm light beckons me and tells me I shouldn't give up. I sway on the porch and wonder what brought me here. I begin to reflect on what led to this moment.

Ten minutes ago I was walking on a fall day when a thought popped into my head. I saw a house in my thoughts. Was it a place I had visited before? Nope. I got a strong urge to head to this place though.

Soon my legs were taking me towards this house and right up to the stoop. I had long stopped wondering why the thought and urge had come over me. I decided all would be revealed in good time.

I find myself feeling peace and content, not an ounce of being impatient. The peace greets me like a long lost friend. This is a peace I haven't felt in a long time. What laid inside this house that was making me feel this way?

Knock, knock, knock.

An aroma of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding comes wafting out. Smells of my childhood. Now I really want to get inside.

I am rewarded for my persistence and my patience. The door creaks open a crack. The warm light cuts a swath on the dark stoop. Is that the smell of a fireplace?

It feels strange and familiar at the same time.

"Hello?" I hear a tremble in my voice. I feel calm but suddenly I feel a sense of nerves. What have I done knocking on the door of this strange house.

The door opens wide and the warm light floods the stoop.

"Hello. Can I help you?" It's a voice I haven't heard since I was a young man.

I'm gob smacked!

It's my Dad. My Dad that passed over 30 years ago is standing before me. He looks just like I remember him. I am stunned to silence.

He smiles a warm smile. He is encouraging me to speak.

"Yes. Do you live here?" I hope that my words make sense.

My Dad ignores my question.

"I'm sorry do I know you?" My Dad speaks with a warm timbre and without malice. He's wearing his white sweater and khakis. Just like I would remember him. Why doesn't he recognize me?

How my heart breaks, my Dad doesn't recognize me. Should I say something. I feel tears sliding down my cheek. The salty tears land on my lips. I don't feel anger, or even frustration. The peace continues to live in me.

"Did you want to come in?" My Dad is smiling. I smile in return as the tears streak down my face. This feels all too real, but it can't be can it?

My Dad has been gone since 1990...and yet. He is very much alive and in front of me right now.

I examine my Dad. Same salt and pepper hair. The eyes are alight with mischief and merriment. His skin is tanned and he has a glow about him. I take in him in. I find myself without the words but with a whole bunch of feelings.

I take a step over the threshold and feel peace return to me. Is this a dream or a nightmare?

Now fully inside the home I see the fireplace roaring in the living room. It is full of life. I feel like the fire.

I turn back and see my Dad is looking at me with a kindness.

"Well you've arrived at the perfect time. I will set a place at the table for you." He strides towards the kitchen.

Always the host, even in the afterlife. I watch him gather the plate and utensils and as he does this a whistle emerges. I find myself cherishing the sweet sound of my Dad's whistling. He returns from setting the table.

"In this light you seem familiar to me, but I will be damned if I can remember you." my Dad has a yearning in his voice. "Never mind, we can catch up at dinner."

I say nothing but continue to examine my Dad. I have disbelief and comfort. Weird feelings to collide inside. My Dad doesn't seem to mind the intense stares from this stranger.

What do you say to someone you haven't seen in over 30 years? I am not used to being at a loss for words.

I open my mouth...