Mother to child advice on living the moment instead of capturing it, on being more than a picture. It hit me right at the meaty center of my Daddiness.
Dear Lily June,
Your dad and I have old phones. Like, really old phones. How old are they?
- Dinosaurs used them for selfies, but couldn’t find the as-yet-uninvented anti-asteroid filter, so they died. Cave men painted our cell phones on walls.
- The stones of Easter Island aren’t as hardy–or as old–as the bricks your dad and I carry around, barely capable of taking photos and about as capable as a blind Amish octogenarian with no thumbs of surfing the internet.
- They were old enough, in fact, that your dad, when he had to replace his, was able to do so for a dollar, Lily. One hundred pennies. Think about that.
Suffice it to say, we’re closer to the top of the lineup than the bottom.
We don’t plan on getting new phones anytime soon, either, in part because we’re just not modern phone people. We know how to settle in…
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