tiny echoes
When I was growing up, whenever I gave my (last) name to a stranger, there was a great chance that they would say, "Oh! Dr Tomlinson is my doctor" (or my mom's doctor, or etc etc), and then tell me some wonderful awesome story about him that would of course both charm and mortify me because I was 17 and I didn't really want to hear about how sweet my dad was when you had that hernia, or how he stayed for hours when your uncle was dying.
But actually this still happens. I just called a plumber to come fix a shower pipe at the cabin we still own in Maine, and the guy I was talking to on the phone said, Tomlinson? I used to have a doctor by that name, nicest guy in the world.
Usually when we're in Maine I don't hang out in Bangor - I think it's because I'm afraid of interactions like this. Afraid of what, I'm not sure - that I'll cry in public, maybe, or that I'll feel 17 again and not in that good way, or maybe just even that I don't want to confront how very much time has actually passed. But today, even though I'm now a little teary, I'm thankful that I had a big goofy dorky sweet loving dad who people still remember because all he ever really wanted to be was a comfort to people in need.
But actually this still happens. I just called a plumber to come fix a shower pipe at the cabin we still own in Maine, and the guy I was talking to on the phone said, Tomlinson? I used to have a doctor by that name, nicest guy in the world.
Usually when we're in Maine I don't hang out in Bangor - I think it's because I'm afraid of interactions like this. Afraid of what, I'm not sure - that I'll cry in public, maybe, or that I'll feel 17 again and not in that good way, or maybe just even that I don't want to confront how very much time has actually passed. But today, even though I'm now a little teary, I'm thankful that I had a big goofy dorky sweet loving dad who people still remember because all he ever really wanted to be was a comfort to people in need.