Father – a photo
There is a photo of me, my sister and my father, taken by the lake. I was about two or three years old, my sister six or seven. We were on the boat pier, and my father is holding me, while my sister stands about 5 feet from him, looking into the camera. Both my father and I are looking sideways at something, possibly an approaching boat.
Whenever I see the photo, I get a cringy feeling. I looked comfortable in my father’s arms as I rested my arms around him. The kind of intimacy I longed for with my father was only present in the photo and not in my memory. Since my brain started recording experiences, there has been no memory of trust or intimacy with my father. But, the fact my father and I chose to look away from each other even with such closeness might indicate our emotional distance.
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