So we all have those fathers whom have a bushy bear or facial hair of some sort that when they shave they look like an entirely different person. Well my father is one of those people and this is a story when I was five (5) years old the day he shaved his beard for the first time since I was born.
Groton, Connecticut in the winter is a cold, cold time with snow up to my head and the everyone knows each other vibe. We were living here due to my dad travels for work and his family followed him everywhere. I was at the ripe great age of five years old living in my favorite house of all the places we have lived. Three story Victorian style home with lots of room and space for everyone and guests. We felt like a family and dad was with us for all of the special days like me eating a chicken nugget without sauce or figuring out how to take that grandfather clock apart. I couldn’t care less about him being there for the holidays but I wanted him there for the little days in-between.
I heard dad had come home from work and it was a dreadful day outside which I wanted to go out into because I was a polar bear to the core. I loved the snow and still do just as much. I ran down the stairs to the kitchen that was just off the entrance to our home where mom was fixing lunch and I asked for dad when the corner of my eye noticed the door to the basement was open. Dad must be down there! Quickly jolted to the doorway to the basement and made my way down the twisting staircase.
When I looked up to the noise of wrenches near dads drafting table and movement to see this man who is very clean-shaven say my name with a voice that was my dads but wasn’t my dad at all in appearance. No way! there was a weirdo in our basement that had taken his form. I screamed out and ran up the stairs almost tripping on every step until I had reached the top where I could hear him laughing from my reaction. Slamming the door behind me as Mom of course running up to me to find out what happened and my dad slowly coming up the stairs.
I wasn’t going to believe this skinny mad man with hair like dad but with no facial hair was my dad which in my mind a bugler broke into the house. Of course I’m screaming and crying while mom is trying to calm me down. Dad approaching the door that I’m holding shut but as it opens my eyes met my dad… I screamed out again forcing my way past mom as I could hear mom calling out that this is your father and him saying its dad.
And that is a story mom and dad, especially dad, love to tell people whenever they have a chance.