papa, je t'aime.
Dad, I send you postcards from paradise, and wish you could be here.
Soon the sunflowers will come out, and we won't have you to force us into the fields for pictures, usually the best photographs of the summer.
Soon I'll be making feasts for the writing workshop, and won't have you to confirm how good my cooking skills are. We both love food, cooking, and usually end up ordering the same thing when eating out. Our taste buds crave the same aggressive flavours, and every time a piece of Roquefort cheese melts in my mouth, I can't help but think of you.
I crave your presence, your sense of humour-which is as horrible as mine-and your curiosity towards life. You love this region, exploring the old streets, discovering new restaurants, visiting escargot farms and putting on a heavy American accent when speaking French. Merci buckets to you too.
While you work 15 hour days I know you dream of being here. I know that working in the movie industry is closer to slave labour than Hollywood glamour. I've always been impressed by your patience on the days I've spent with you on film sets, impressed by the number of people that come up to be and tell me about what a wonderful guy you are to work with. I remember one guy telling me "Me and your dad laugh so hard together. No one gets me laughing that much." I guess we're all pretty lucky to have you.
Throughout my life you haven't always been there in person. You work a lot, and I tend to leave the country a lot. But I have never felt the distance. When I was younger, and you would work all night, you would slip small gifts under my pillow. A pack of M&Ms was enough to know you'd been thinking of me. You are fully supportive of my dreams, my sudden urges to take off, and my writing. This is more than I could ever ask for. You make me proud of who I am, and are a warm thought when my world turns cold.
It's so hard to tell you how much I love you without turning into a Hallmark card: "Father, I am blessed to have your soul in my life." How do I say it so that it comes out as genuinely as I mean it? Dad. I love you. I love that your traits are sewn so strongly through me. I love knowing you're there for me, regardless of how many miles away you are. You're an amazing person and I'm proud to be your daughter. Happy Fathers Day.
Soon the sunflowers will come out, and we won't have you to force us into the fields for pictures, usually the best photographs of the summer.
Soon I'll be making feasts for the writing workshop, and won't have you to confirm how good my cooking skills are. We both love food, cooking, and usually end up ordering the same thing when eating out. Our taste buds crave the same aggressive flavours, and every time a piece of Roquefort cheese melts in my mouth, I can't help but think of you.
I crave your presence, your sense of humour-which is as horrible as mine-and your curiosity towards life. You love this region, exploring the old streets, discovering new restaurants, visiting escargot farms and putting on a heavy American accent when speaking French. Merci buckets to you too.
While you work 15 hour days I know you dream of being here. I know that working in the movie industry is closer to slave labour than Hollywood glamour. I've always been impressed by your patience on the days I've spent with you on film sets, impressed by the number of people that come up to be and tell me about what a wonderful guy you are to work with. I remember one guy telling me "Me and your dad laugh so hard together. No one gets me laughing that much." I guess we're all pretty lucky to have you.
Throughout my life you haven't always been there in person. You work a lot, and I tend to leave the country a lot. But I have never felt the distance. When I was younger, and you would work all night, you would slip small gifts under my pillow. A pack of M&Ms was enough to know you'd been thinking of me. You are fully supportive of my dreams, my sudden urges to take off, and my writing. This is more than I could ever ask for. You make me proud of who I am, and are a warm thought when my world turns cold.
It's so hard to tell you how much I love you without turning into a Hallmark card: "Father, I am blessed to have your soul in my life." How do I say it so that it comes out as genuinely as I mean it? Dad. I love you. I love that your traits are sewn so strongly through me. I love knowing you're there for me, regardless of how many miles away you are. You're an amazing person and I'm proud to be your daughter. Happy Fathers Day.
posted by Gillian Young at 1:18 AM
2 Comments:
Je t'aime aussi
You have made my day with your wonderful blog. You make me very proud to be a father.
Votre Papa
A very touching entry...
Post a Comment
<< Home