Memory Lane

Mom found some pictures that she scanned and emailed me. I might have them already in hard copy form but it never hurts to have them on the computer too. That's my dad and the baby is me, just in case you were wondering. It's so... surreal maybe... to look at that and imagine once upon a time I was a baby and he was that young and there was a connection like that between us.

I would not use an adjective like gentle to describe my father but looking at this picture and observing his body, his posture, his hands - gentle is the word that comes to mind. He is so engrossed in that little girl he's holding. It's a shame I can't remember those moments... although I suppose my dad does.

I have those moments too - the ones I remember that my children don't. That's part of the mystery of parenthood, I guess, that children don't really ever get until much later in life, if they ever do at all. We think of it as so one side, don't we? But I suppose there are times my dad looks at me and remembers, like I look at my children and remember, and the feelings he must feel are the same ones I feel. Does everyone take 44 years to figure this out? Or perhaps it's the fact it's my dad, a man who really hadn't been this openly gentle when I was older and able to remember. Either way it's humbling... and endearing in a way I can't explain.