Through Bridgette I understand better my father’s affection for me. He didn’t love me more than by older siblings, but he had nurtured them through childhood without the influence of teenage siblings. He knew, like I know now, how quickly the bloom falls from the vine. He had seen them rocket through their toddler, preschool and elementary years at breakneck speed. He could do nothing to thwart the fast passage of time, and when I was born in his late 30s, he held onto my youth and innocence with a death grip. I realize now it wasn’t to keep him younger or to keep me from growing older as I had suspected, but rather, to keep me from becoming too jaded too soon.
NW 15th and Hudson Avenue
From one of my favorite holiday movies, The Family Stone:
“You were just a little girl in a flannel night gown. And you were shovelling snow from the walk in front of our house. And I was the snow, I was the snow. And everywhere it landed and everywhere it covered. You scoop me up with a big red shovel. You scoop me up.”
I love you, Sully, Bridgy and Juliette.