I had a serious conversation with my dad during dinner today.
He’s really a talkative person, but mostly we chat about his work, the small things that bother us, me and my boyfriend, what I’m doing, or my friends I told him about. You know what I mean. I can tell him everything, actually, if he’s in a good mood and I’m in a good mood.
Today’s conversation was different. He actually showed me a part of himself I’d already noticed, but could not yet define why that part is the way it is or how it has developed into an important part of his character and his way of living and thinking.
The conversation was about how he lost his sister (she didn’t die but she left home) and how he tried to cope with that and stuff. (He told me other things too, but that’s not the point.)
The point is that everyone has his/her story… (I already have mine, although I’m only 21 (almost 22) years old. And there will be more stories that will shape me again, while I’ll be getting older.)
Anyway, some time ago I scanned old pictures of my dad (I already posted one of them in April) and this photo was in my “concepts” here for a long time already, but since today the picture has gained more meaning to me. My dad could’ve (literally) been in the same position today as he was then, while talking to me. (But there and then he was talking to himself or his dog.)
Here you have a picture of my dad (and his beautiful dog), contemplating life.