Eating at Dad's House

Today I went over to my dad's house to have some stir fry. For dinner almost every single day, my dad has a very simple diet, and he eats stir fry with kale, chard, rice, hot sauce, and sweet sauce. When I hang out with my dad, it has become a ritual that we go back to his apartment and he makes me stir fry while I sit on the rocking chair or his desk chair and watch him make my meal. Here are a few moments from today's ritual:

YUM:

Sitting in the desk chair:

My view:

FOOD:

Washing dishes and moments in between:

Walking together after eating:

My dad was also affected by a car crash last night; he was standing in a bus shelter, when all of the sudden someone pulled an illegal U-turn and rammed into the shelter. My dad was pushed back and fell into a bunch of broken glass. The other man who stood by my dad was able to get out of the way before being affected, but his groceries, which had been sitting on the shelter's bench, were completely smashed. If either my dad or the other man had been sitting on the bench, my dad said, they would have been in the hospital, "at best." 

The peculiar thing is that a few minutes before the crash, my dad had intuitively thought, what if a car crashed into this bus shelter? That's a lesson in listening to your intuition.

Look at my dad's hands. My hands are his hands, just a lot smaller. When I was little (and my hands were even smaller), I used to take a piece of paper and trace my dad's hand, and then I would put my hand inside the tracing and do the same thing again. A hand inside a hand. Our hands have always been exactly the same, and it is quite a comforting feeling. 

Extra Reading:

Steph Telesco: Telesco recently graduated from MassArt. I like her work because it feels familiar, yet it is a bit mysterious at the same time. There is enough mystery in her photos that keep you looking. Telesco's photographs explore home and the self, and all of her work feels very personal.