Passing Pictures Through The Door

I spent the last few days pondering what I wanted to say in response to my dad's message. Deciding how I wanted to address his allusion to my childhood. How to balance natural curiosity and honesty without producing feelings of guilt or remorse for that which can't be transformed: the past.

So I kept it brief, and to the point. I just said life was rough, but not entirely terrible and that I faired well. Then went on to talk about our beloved German Shepherd, Heidi, that he remembered.

And I pushed the door open slightly... I sent him a photo that I had taken. One of my favorites. Something that I created. A piece of me, that inevitably is a piece of him...