SS #105: The Photograph
Feeling nostalgic but simultaneously in too much pain to write anything special for Halloween. It's my favorite holiday. Next year, we're decorating!
My dad and I shared a love for the holiday. My earliest memories are of him carefully sculpting items for the haunted house. His makeup and costume (a witch) scared the shit out of me when I was 6 and walking through that house. When he came out to comfort me, I realized that maybe dad and I were magical. Or spooky things that wear normal people suits during the other 364 days of the year.
I couldn't find any of my Halloween themed writings with my dad, but I did find this "bonding" tidbit on my old blog. It dates back to 2008.
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SS #105: The Photograph
The merry ladies in charge of Sunday Scribblings have come up with a picture-prefect theme. I am an avid amateur photographer. I have a plethora of macro work ranging from delicate flower heads to moths. I have several grand vistas from various states (and quite a few snapshots taken from airplanes.) I have far too many pictures of our pets and home décor. Have you ever seen dried cat snot? I’m certain that I have a photograph of it somewhere on this blog; if I am wrong, I will endeavor to upload a picture.
I thought I would deviate from all the pretty things that I enjoy photographing (cat snot is very pretty when the light hits it just so – not) and share a picture of me. My father took the picture below over a year and three months ago. It is in the Denver International Airport.
We had a marvelous time that day. I had flown out to help take care of Mum while she recovered from gallbladder surgery. We managed to get along without any terrible incidents (how easy it is to slip back into teenage patterns!) Mum didn’t want to make the long car trip to Denver, which meant that Dad and I had an entire airport to play in.
The wheelchair is mine. The arms are not usually on it, but for cargo purposes it is best that they be affixed to the chair. I can’t push myself with the arms in place and Dad offered to be my Sherpa. Security let him through (complete with a shirt pocket filled with miniature screwdrivers and other such tools) and we wandered the terminal. We played with the “name brand” headphone display, traveled upstairs to the bar so that I could have a cigarette (this was when I was still smoking) and chatted. Dad and I never seem to have enough “Daddy-Daughter” days like this.
Right before he left me (Mum had called twice to see where he was) he snapped this picture. I look terrible in it! It is special to me because my Dad took it.
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That was in April 2008. I STILL have that outfit. I still wear it. Good grief. My wardrobe needs updating. That aside, moving around an airport was difficult, physically. I'm now proud of myself for walking five blocks in the morning. (Hershey and I haven't done that in a month. It saddens me.)