Embarrassing? Yes. But Also Comforing.

It rarely happens anymore. Something about the combination of being daddy’s little girl and at the same time an almost “grown-up” has severely decreased the number of times I fight with my dad. In fact, this hardly counts as a fight. But he did make me cry. It was just one of those mornings. You know, the ones where nothing has gone terribly wrong but nothing has gone terribly right either? A morning that starts with tears at the edges of your eyes just waiting to spill over. All it takes is one, little phrase. “Goodness, no one is appreciative around here.”

He didn’t even mean it. He didn’t even remember saying it. But the jab struck the kink in my cheerful armor, and the tears that had been waiting to spill over began to flow. He didn’t notice (I didn’t really expect or want him to). But I turned quickly away hoping that if I continued on with my day the tears would stop. But there was a flaw in my plan.

Continuing on with my day meant going downstairs and seeing my mother. When asked what was wrong, I quickly explained but tried not to dwell on it. And I succeeded. By the time I walked out my front door to head to work, I had completely forgotten that a mere hour ago I had tears streaming down my face.

I work in for the Education Department of Nyack College Manhattan Campus. I love my job. I love my boss. I love having an excuse to spend five hours in the education lab people watching and chatting with college friends. I was having a good day. When my phone rang and the caller ID showed home, I answered with a cheery hello. “What’s up, daddy?” “Well,” he began hesitantly, “your mother says I made you cry this morning.”

Oh no. I had forgotten. I didn’t want to think about this now. “What?” I replied in a voice several octaves higher than normal. I quickly walked out of the lab to have some “privacy” for my phone call. I put privacy in quotes because what I apparently forgot at that moment is that the education lab has a wall of windows looking out into the hallway I had just walked to for “privacy.” I was proud of myself. I managed to get through the whole let’s-fix-this conversation without raising my voice or bursting into tears. But apparently I wasn’t as stone-faced as I thought. This probably has something to do with the fact that I did get a little teary and I’m rather expressive with my hand motions. . .

A walked back into the ed lab to be greeted by my two male friends questioning, “Are you okay? Was that your boyfriend?” I’m pretty sure if I’ve ever blushed, I was blushing then. “No, that was my dad, and I’ll be fine.” I replied quickly. “Oh, good. At first we were rooting for you to tell him off, but then we could tell you were upset. We were prepared to take care of it if you needed us too.”

Wow. It was one of those moments were you wish you could melt into the carpet. I was so embarrassed. Besides the fact that even if it had been my boyfriend he’s two hours away so what would they have done. . . But it was strangely comforting too. I haven’t made many close friends in college. But in the education department we are family. And apparently family does really stick together.

Keep on singing,