Before it's out of my mouth I knew it was a mistake. Years younger, in a time seemingly long ago stool me, having just shot up a few inches too far too fast coupled with yet another year in braces made for a decently awkward high school me. My family was on a trip, only trips families make: to visit other family ;P. My father walked me around a little shop filled with figurines, some of blown glass and some beautifully painted wood. My sentiments of the art I saw around me was the same as it has always been, a bit too practical for my own good, "It is beautiful but what purpose do they serve... and I only have so much space on my desk and it is a desk..."
My father is a dreamer's dreamer. He walked into the house that is now their home and saw a dream, the more then retro tight kitchen, the bright blue the previous owners seemed so in love with: having painted more than a handful of rooms, the shag carpet throughout not to mention the use of that electric blue in the hall bath with blue tile, tub, sink and toilet... nothing seemed to be able to deter him.
I tell you to help you visualize the man who walked me through this small store of nick nacks... each he had a story, each a little adventure. It was towards the end of a beautiful trip added to our list of family adventures and my father wanted to make it special, "Aren't these great... this one really looks like you... Pick one?"
I stared at the wall of figurines unsure of what to do. In a house with the idea of "no thank you helpings" (small portions of food you take of food you may not like but have to eat for social reasons) was more than integrated, how do you tell your father that as much as the idea is appreciated the reality is undesired? How do you look this adventurer in the eyes and tell him "no". I swallowed and ate my words, "Uh... what do you think? I mean they are all beautifully done." It was the only answer...
In my family the gift is more about the heart than the reality of the object. My poor mother had to deal with more than a few abysmal necklaces chosen by yours truly as a small child but she wore them with pride as I am sure many of your mother's did as well. My sister got a strange set of off brand Disney princesses Ariel was Arel and Cinderella was Cindyella...you get the idea. Though I walked away with something I thought I'm practical whenever I look on my weird little Giraffe I can't help but think of all the fun we had on that trip and the joy my dad had as his gift was wrapped.
My father is a dreamer's dreamer. He walked into the house that is now their home and saw a dream, the more then retro tight kitchen, the bright blue the previous owners seemed so in love with: having painted more than a handful of rooms, the shag carpet throughout not to mention the use of that electric blue in the hall bath with blue tile, tub, sink and toilet... nothing seemed to be able to deter him.
I tell you to help you visualize the man who walked me through this small store of nick nacks... each he had a story, each a little adventure. It was towards the end of a beautiful trip added to our list of family adventures and my father wanted to make it special, "Aren't these great... this one really looks like you... Pick one?"
In my family the gift is more about the heart than the reality of the object. My poor mother had to deal with more than a few abysmal necklaces chosen by yours truly as a small child but she wore them with pride as I am sure many of your mother's did as well. My sister got a strange set of off brand Disney princesses Ariel was Arel and Cinderella was Cindyella...you get the idea. Though I walked away with something I thought I'm practical whenever I look on my weird little Giraffe I can't help but think of all the fun we had on that trip and the joy my dad had as his gift was wrapped.
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