Dad, stop hassling me about posting.

By Betty | November 23, 2009 | 1 Comment

my dad and i played games that indulged my fascination with soap opera style tragedy. pretend games about orphaned paupers in 18th century london and heartbroken young women who’s fiancees had drowned in freezing water after falling through thin ice during romantic skating scenes. every night after dinner i was a sailor’s lover who had been captured by pirates or a mediaeval princess lost in the woods, running from blood thirsty wolves. i overacted moments of joy and sadness to Bach and Vivaldi. i dreamt up new stories in my sleep and woke up every morning to rummage through my costume box and force a video camera into my dad’s hands. “let’s make a movie!” with the shame and aloofness of growing up, i am sometimes tempted to dig up and burn the tapes of  my fantasy adventures, but i could never do such a thing. it’s too incredible reviewing footage of some of the most fun i’ve ever had in my life. it’s too amazing to see myself when my mind was opened widest and i had no shame to keep me from holding it all back. it’s like going to a restaurant and seeing a little kid climb onto a table and pull down their pants, revealing their teletubbies underwear. at these times i think to myself “man, i wish i could still do that!”. no shame, no consequences and not a care in the world but sock puppets and ice cream. i still want my scrap fabric fairy dress to fit me again. maybe i’ll make a new one. oh and, by the way, thanks dad. i love you.

Comments