I’m taking an online writing class, hoping to find a blogging groove that I’ve been missing. As an assignment, I needed to pick a photograph and write about it.
This is my Dad at the Columbus airport waiting to board the plane back to Tampa.
In 2010, I took my first trip back to Columbus, my hometown, since I was a teenager. I met my Dad and we spent a long weekend visiting with family and hanging out. It was fun to see how my brother had remodeled the old house, catch up with my sister-in-law, walk the creek with my niece Elise, and play in snow. I don’t typically spend a lot of one-on-one time with my Dad, so it proved to be a fun, bonding weekend.
On our way home, we were early to the airport, so we ate breakfast and walked through an airport history museum. He’s a pilot, so while the changing of runway patterns is fascinating to him, I was exhausted and dreaming of finding a seat in the terminal and relaxing.
I told him I wanted to sit down, but he wanted to walk around. He gave me a hard time, asking me why I wanted to spend three hours (err… like an hour) sitting at the gate when I was going to spend three hours sitting on a plane.
I suggested, probably in one of my bitchier voices, that I could go and he could find me later and then headed off towards the gate. He must have felt some parental protectiveness or responsibility because he followed me. I tried to explain that I was an adult and didn’t need a chaperone, but he sulked along behind me anyways.
Once we were through security, he made a comment about finding a bathroom and disappeared. I called my mom. I understood that it was silly aggravation rooted in both of our needs to be home and to have some personal space, so I found it humorous. My phone call interrupted him on the other line. My mom didn’t say, but I’m sure that he was explaining how stubborn I was being. No denying, it is bred in my Scottish roots.
When he reappeared, he had coffee and a newspaper and sat down beside me. He made small talk and I knew that he wasn’t mad.
Ten minutes later, he was up at the window, watching the planes and people. Too something to be able to sit still. The lighting was all messed up, but I snapped the photograph because it was so him, fidgeting in the light. The shape of him is so distinct that could be no one else. I probably shouldn’t like that we argued over silliness, but I love that the situation lead me to take one of my favorite photographs of him.
These are some more fun photos from the trip:
Now, when I go to visit, my first favorite thing to do is walk along the creek with my niece Elise. It was always my sanctuary, so I am so happy that she loves being down there as much I did. She is such a firecracker, so animated, emotional, and sweet. I love these moments when we get to walk around because she talks me, tells me about everything, and reminds of a lot of good things.
On this particular trip, I was excited because there were a few traces of snow around on the ground. By the next morning, a snow storm had completed covered the whole town. It was beautiful and magical. I even donned 18 layers of clothes and went sledding with Elise and Christopher (my nephew) on Jones's hill. Just like old times.
I can't begin to tell you the number of times on the trip that my Dad asked What the hell are you taking pictures of now? Don't you have enough already? The answer is always no. Actually, I really wish I hadn't been so shy around everyone and had taken more.
As a side note, I'm still mad at people for telling me that beret looked good, but these are great memories... driving around in a snow storm, meeting lifesized corn statues, and eating dinner at Chef-O-Nette.