You Are What You Value.

Value is an interesting concept.  It is so personal, isn’t it?  People place value on some strange things: trinkets, clothing, places, stuffed animals, linens, photographs, and yes, even food.  A person may value a photograph for a thousand meaningful reasons, and then share the photograph with someone who may struggle to acknowledge or see its value.  Sometimes it seems the stuff we care about is as trivial as a trinket.  Yet there are some gems that are relative to our hearts, because they are based on an experience.

Take the above photograph, for example.  When I took it, I remember thinking, (like the skeptic that I too often am), “Hmph.  Easier said than done.”  I remember wondering, “what if you don’t have a dream, then what do you become? A nightmare?”  I suppose a part of me thought that the “idealist fairy” was floating around Tampa, Florida sidewalks and dusting the street with little optimistic chalk sayings, trying to piss normal people off.

But I was hurting then, and I was very scared. 

Imagine with me, for a moment, that the snapshot isn’t a photograph, but a short film.  The camera pans upward, away from the sidewalk view and into my view.  Standing there, alit by the evening sun, and waiting patiently for me to take the photo, is my father.  He is smiling at me because he thinks I am silly, lagging behind and taking pictures of little chalk writings.  He beckons me to hurry up to him so that we can walk together to the nearby Sushi restaurant.  He is quiet, and tired, but he has saved all his energy to do something special for me on this day: my twenty-third birthday.  He wanted to take me to Tampa so he could treat me to a dinner of my favorite food.  We walk to the hip sushi restaurant and I order a caterpillar roll and a fancy daiquiri with an edible orchid.  

And I, being sentimental, slide over to his side of the booth and coerce him into letting me take the classic “one arm out headshot,” because a part of me knows that this will be my last birthday with my father.   

Yes, it is a sad story.  It is difficult for me to think about this day and even harder to write about it.  The reason I am is because I feel I am finally at a point in my life where I can truly appreciate my 23^rd birthday for all that it was.  These three photos tell me something about who I am, and help facilitate me toward the ultimate goal we all want so much in life, the goal to ‘become our dream’. 

The first photo indicates that I was a little lost, but not completely.  I wouldn’t have snapped the picture if I didn’t want to remember the message of possibility.  At the time I was so skeptical, but now it makes me look at the second picture with more clarity.  I was photographing food before I ever started writing about it, or buying it a certain way, or even growing it myself, but I was also trying so hard to save a memory of a time that I could not understand very well.  Why would I do that?  Probably because I wanted to write about it later.

And the last picture, (looking beyond the haircut, of course) is of Dad, and when I think of him, I wince a little because I know he’d be mad as hell that I haven’t finished school yet.  He would have said, “Annie, this really chaps my ass.”  And he never really swore.

 In order for me to become my dream, I must return to school.  Why all this is clear now and not before is something I haven’t yet figured out.  But I think a part of me wants TwinYolks to be much, much better for you, and for that to happen, I need to work hard to become a much, much better writer. 

Don’t worry, TwinYolks is one of my great joys and, at times, my sanity.  I love sharing foods and ideas with you. I love learning from you. You all make me very happy.  I refuse to break up with you under any circumstances, okay?  

Now I think I’ll go make the closest thing to a Japanese Daquiri I can, and toast to you, life, Dad, education, and becoming my dream.  

 

P.S. No more sad posts coming up, promise. :)