how old are you now?
november 19th, 1947. a beautiful amazing man was born.
today he will be spending the day in the mountains in vermont with his family (minus two), drinking wine, eating good yummy food and blowing out 57 candles on his birthday cake. well actually i hope not, that is a fucking lot of candles.
i remember when my dad turned forty. i made a "4" and a "0" out of play-dough on our dining room table when we were still living in canada. they were green and the smell of the clay and the feeling between my fingers made me warm. i worked all afternoon (me being five years old and all...) and i was so proud. they were beautiful. when he came home from work i told him to close his eyes and i brought him by the hand to the table and unveiled my masterpiece. i still remember the look on his face. he gave me a hug, but i knew something wasn't appropriate. that was the day i learned that with my father, we don't talk about age. age and money, completely taboo.
every year since then i have tried to forget how old my father is. he is almost sixty! i can remember when twenty-two was super old. i wish i could freeze him in this age, with grey hairs wisping around his face and soft wrinkles around his eyes.
to the most amazing father and best of friends a girl could ask for, happy birthday, however old you may be...
today he will be spending the day in the mountains in vermont with his family (minus two), drinking wine, eating good yummy food and blowing out 57 candles on his birthday cake. well actually i hope not, that is a fucking lot of candles.
i remember when my dad turned forty. i made a "4" and a "0" out of play-dough on our dining room table when we were still living in canada. they were green and the smell of the clay and the feeling between my fingers made me warm. i worked all afternoon (me being five years old and all...) and i was so proud. they were beautiful. when he came home from work i told him to close his eyes and i brought him by the hand to the table and unveiled my masterpiece. i still remember the look on his face. he gave me a hug, but i knew something wasn't appropriate. that was the day i learned that with my father, we don't talk about age. age and money, completely taboo.
every year since then i have tried to forget how old my father is. he is almost sixty! i can remember when twenty-two was super old. i wish i could freeze him in this age, with grey hairs wisping around his face and soft wrinkles around his eyes.
to the most amazing father and best of friends a girl could ask for, happy birthday, however old you may be...
posted by isobella at 9:04 AM
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