Wednesday, October 5, 2011

One Spring Day in 1967

My father recently bought a digital scanner, to convert slides to digital images. He has boxes and boxes of slides, holding decades of memories.

I was the girl who pored over photo albums. I knew every single photograph in every single album in our house. All those pictures were written into the story of my life, even if I, as the youngest of five siblings, wasn't part of them. And now my father is introducing me to snippets of life I have never seen.

Like my brother dressed in the same cowboy outfit that my own boys have worn. Like my mother reaching for an apple.

Like my father, holding me, kissing my hand like any father would do with his baby girl. Such a sweet, timeless moment, but it is my moment.

A few days ago I was sitting with my father in front of his computer, scrolling through newly loaded images, when this one popped up. I was struck with the projection of past on future: there we were, my father younger than I am now, and here we are today, 44 years later.

I can't stop looking at this picture now, missing that sunny, blue-sky day that I never knew, missing my father at 42. And so very, very grateful to have him still, to see him every day, to know that I have had a lifetime of my father's love.


  1. This is so beautiful. And how wonderful to have such a precious memory immortalized for you to cling to! That photo is captivating to me, in so many ways. The love and tenderness just shines through. And, I daresay, NOT every father would kiss his baby girl's hand in just such a way and that's what makes it even more dear. :) Truly lovely.

  2. That's beautiful. Brought tears to my eyes. I clearly need to take more photos with my kids!


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