I'd rather be in France.

Oh what a difference a dad makes

January 18th, 2012 | Rachel

My dad is in town as a part of his three-week R&R trip home from Afghanistan.  He was already planning on coming here before I announced my moving date, but the timing of it all couldn’t have been more perfect in the end.

I had been getting a little… overwhelmed by the final week of moving.  It was partially due to my ever-growing to-do list, but a lot of it was just the mental and emotional effects of packing up the life that I have really loved in New York and preparing to leave my friends, some of whom are now in my innermost circle of “best” friends.

My dad drove in yesterday, parking my new (old) minivan in Jersey City and then taking the PATH.  We had some drinks together in the middle of the afternoon, took a break to watch some episodes of Breaking Bad (I am introducing him to the show), and had Korean barbecue for dinner with Arthur.  This morning we went out and got some boxes, had brunch at Community, and then fetched the minivan.

We made it through the Holland Tunnel without any problems, but then we were in Manhattan for exactly ten minutes before I missed the turn (he was driving, but I was the copilot) and ended up in Brooklyn.  If I am going to get stuck driving in circles with anyone, it might as well be my dad.  He stayed in good spirits throughout the driving adventure, even through the three hours it took us to retrieve a few pieces of furniture from Arthur’s loft.

We are now taking a little break at home (watching Breaking Bad) before heading out to dinner at my favorite restaurant, Punch, followed by my last little goodbye gathering at Arctica.

I’ve been hanging out with my dad for about 24 hours now, and I can already breathe better and walk lighter.  Part of it is knowing I have someone to help me load up the U-Box tomorrow, but mostly it is just because he’s my dad and he’s here.

Thanks, dad.