I know I’m late with this blog, but really, is it ever a bad time to write about your Dad?
With weddings every weekend, our minds have been pretty focused on preparation, shooting, backing up, editing, and getting ready for the next again. It’s awesome, but Sunday I decided I just needed to go home. To see my Dad. Even if just for a few hours to talk about nothing in particular, I wanted to go home.
That photo on the left? That’s pretty much how I feel about my dad. Grinning from ear to ear, safe, secure, conquering the world. My dad, the practical engineer, who used to lay under the piano while I practiced so that he could hear it better. Smart, practical, who nonetheless gave his crazy artistic daughter room to stretch her wings – as long as I could produce an excel spreadsheet of my income and expenses to make sure I was staying on track.
Here’s a story. I was pretty much the last person in my grade who believed in Santa. Just because of my Dad. You see, one year, I don’t remember how old I was, I woke up on Christmas Eve night with a terrible sore throat. It was late, and mom was working nights at the hospital. Dad packed up my brother, myself, and my stuffed bunny, and we went to the hospital before Santa could show up. And when we got back, in the dining room sat a little kitchenette that I would play with for years. There it was – proof that Santa existed.
Later, when I was about 16, we were on a family vacation when Dad and I both happened to wake up earlier than the rest of the family. We went down to the hotel lobby to read our books and eat a couple bananas, when out of nowhere Dad decided it was time to offer some fatherly advice. “Someday, Ann” he said, “You will meet someone and fall love.” I was already embarrassed. “And that’s all well and good. Just make sure you get a credit check first.”
And ya know, it wasn’t bad advice.
I have to say I’m really lucky to have a guy like Kamran, who smiles while I pull him away from everything that he wants to do to drive to Wisconsin for dinner. Kamran passed Dad’s test, and mine too. Kamran, I love you. 🙂
Comments +