tying the knot
The last wedding Ory and I went to we were late, and he got mad at me for wasting time playing poker online when I should have been getting ready. That is why, yesterday I got to his house one and a half hours earlier so we can go fight-free and avoid the awkward sneaking down the pews to the empty seats in front after the bride has made her entrance. With 20 minutes left, we had a problem, a tie problem. Ory could not tie the knot properly.
I used to tie my father’s ties all the time. He taught me when I barely learned how to tie my shoes. It was not easy and he was not nice about it. I remember he had me re-do it again and again and again until I got it right. Eventually it became routine and I did it all the time with ease.
“I used to tie my father’s ties all the time,” I said to Ory as I jumped in to rescue him. Then as I was lining, and wrapping this way and that, over and under and pulling, it wasn’t working. I had forgotten how to tie a tie.
I realized how I pretty much had forgotten how to do a lot of things I knew how to do as a kid, play the piano, land jumps on ice, retell jokes. What if the only thing I ever retained since childhood was counting numbers? I started to panic.
“It’s ok I’ll just do it,” he said and took over again. So there Ory was frustrated and fidgeting frantically, and me sitting on the bed wondering how it was possible that I had forgotten, while the bride was probably walking the aisle now with her father. This was our thing. Our walk down the aisle, something my father only taught me and had me do for him. He needed me to help him every day before he set off into his adult life outside of home. I remember when he would return from his frequent business trips (sometimes he was gone for months), the first thing I’d do was run to fix his tie. Suddenly I didn’t want to go to this wedding anymore. I just wanted to drive to my father and fix his tie.
