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Happy Father's Day!
I have a black-and-white photograph of my dad taken when he was about 18. He's standing on the deck of a ship, leaning his left arm on the railing, resting his right hand against the hip of his 501s, thumb encircling the waistband so that only his fingers are visible against the front jeans pocket.
He stands, looking out at the ocean, lost in thought, his left knee drawn up slightly, his weight shifting to the left.
I watched him stand that way many times during his life.
There was something about the way he held himself - a certain readiness combined with a loose casualness - that suggested the innate grace of an athlete.
The photo on the ship, from all those years ago, captures this exact sense of him.
Looking at the picture recently, I realized there is something in his gaze that mirrors my own contemplative look. It is a small similarity that I hold close to my heart.
It is perhaps one of the most beautiful things about our relationship to family - that we carry a part of each other along with us.