Father, Daughter

We’ve not seen one of my aunts for several years. No big story, no big fall-out, just one of those things. She’s burst back into our lives now with the love and liveliness that she has always possessed in spades, and with her latest visit, she has come bearing photos. My dad has no pictures of his parents, so she’s passed a stack of them on to him, along with various photos of all of us from many years ago. I’d not seen any of them before, so I really enjoyed looking through them. This one stood out to me..


Please excuse the quality, and the somewhat dodgy perm that my father is sporting – it was the early 80’s, in his defence!

Now, my mum has loads and loads of photos of us as children, as you’d imagine. But, though I’d not noticed this before, there are very few of us actually with our parents. I guess they were usually behind the camera, but with my aunt’s snaps, she was. There are even less shots of my dad and I, as he was often working. This one really drew me in, as I’d guess that I’m the same age there as Boo is now, and she does bear quite a resemblance to me.

It got me thinking. It made me realise that my dad was to me as we are now to Boo. Obvious, right, but not something I’d really thought about. I don’t think that you can possibly appreciate the gamut of emotions that your parents went through (and I’m sure still go through!) by loving you, until you become a parent yourself. I look at this photo and I know just how he feels about me right there, as it’s how I feel about my daughter right now. I look at this photo and feel it as a daughter and as a parent in equal measures. I look at this photo and I am small again, and happy and safe in my dad’s arms. I look at this photo and I remember that Boo, though seeming so old and wise to me some days, it still so young and my little baby. I look at this photo and I smile.

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