At age 72 today, my father said, “Let’s take a selfie!”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“Aww Dad, you said ‘selfie!’ I’m so proud.”
Today we celebrated by going to Mass at his parish, then to brunch, and finally a father/daughter movie date– our tradition.
I then suggested we go into the back yard and take some pictures. We always take them in the house, with the worst lighting. They all look the same– in the kitchen or living room. It was nice to get outside with all the grass and the plants he and Diane meticulously plant and tend to each spring.
We took one of he and I, and then Diane and I.
Then the three of us.
Then it was Bohrer Family Selfie Time.
My Dad proclaimed, “I’ve got long arms!” The better to aim with, I suppose.
But he lacks the know-how otherwise. First, he’s a tall man. Six feet, broad shoulders. Huge hands. A jock for most of his young life. An Army veteran– officer.
Instead of wrapping his left arm around my step-mom and I, he held both hands outstretched in front– leaving Diane behind my Dad so you can only see the top of her hair and eyes. I’m in the bottom left corner, jutting just barely in frame.
We’re all making ridiculous faces, having no idea what we look like.
I think these two might be the best pictures we’ve ever taken! Stupid, random. All of us were tickled by the results.
Selfies have been a thing for so long now that most people find them annoying. But today, I reconnected with the wonderful silliness that made this behavior such a standard.
The delightful awkwardness of assembling into frame somehow– the comedy of viewing the results. Trying again, to see if you can get a better one with everyone in-frame and without some goofy expression.
It’s just about having fun. We’re not a family that insists the pictures be perfect.
We were all in a great mood today. I feel so abundantly lucky.
Earlier my Dad and I went to see “Jurassic World,” at the mall. I couldn’t have had a better date!
And somehow, we matched! He was wearing a bright plaid shirt with many bright colors– blue, white, red, yellow. My dress was blue and white with large horizontal stripes– I felt very Eighties in it!
My father is the strong silent type. Like Silent Bob. But also with a gentle, dry sense of humor. His words are concise and meaningful. And I’m so lucky to be his daughter.
I found a wonderful peace this afternoon with him. An acceptance.
I am happy.
Also, my father is the reason I am single and happy. He’s always on my side.
Because my father is the man who has always and WILL always stand by me. My father’s love is unfaltering, always steady. When he makes a promise, he keeps it. When I call, he answers– if only to tell me he can’t talk right then. On the rare occasions he doesn’t, he will usually text or call me back within a short times pan. He is always eager to spend time with me, even if it’s just to help me fix something. My father shows his love most through acts of service. He helps me any way he can, when I accept it. Sometimes I don’t. But what I’ve learned is that sometimes being a good daughter means having the humility to accept the help my father willingly offers. Not always. But today for example. I mentioned this week that I don’t have a can opener (I know, ridiculous!) and borrowed one from them. My practical father noted the information and today presented me with that item.
Sure, I could refuse it and buy my own can-opener. But it made him happy to give me one.
And I’m happy he cares and pays attention to little details like that.
So today was a wonderful day with my favorite person.