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09/14/2002 Entry: "Playing Tricks."

Every now and again this happens: Today while I was at the barber shop my father walked by the large front window. I looked closer and no, of course it wasn't him, but it could have been; the right body shape, the right hair, the right clothes. I vow to get another cup of coffee after my haircut.

I got in the chair, took off my glasses, and the barber went to work. She handed me the mirror to look at the back, and there was my father looking at me again, a younger version whose hair hadn't turned silver yet. The reflection had his red spots on his cheek in the right spot, one that I can't seem to find now in any of my mirrors at home. I had her touch up the back and pretended I didn't see anything.

When I left I saw someone I knew walking up the street. I wasn't certain why I knew him. I think I went out with him years ago, or possibly someone I knew went out with him. But I think I remember seeing him naked, so it was probably me. I think this was a sufficient reminder that while I am like him, I am not my father. Perhaps consequently, I haven't seen him today since.

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