This picture brought me to tears. Here I am well into my 40’s crying over a photo of me as a 5 year old. I was so innocent in this photo. My smile one that I no longer know. It was so genuine. I was so happy. But even now I can see in my eyes the fear of knowing it was soon to be over. This short visit with Dad would soon be replaced by the shame I had for enjoying my visit.

The smile before
the shame.

I tried to cling to this moment, holding my breath and clinching tightly to the Gonzo I never loved until now. The pure joy of knowing my dad had given it to me. Gonzo was now my new hero.

As the ice cream melted, so did the time. Little did I know that this would be one of just a few more memories captured of happy times with my dad. The realities of life soon became clear. My dad became the boogie man that everyone hid from when we accidently happened to drive past him in town. I became that one child that did not change her last name when Mom remarried. Popping my head up over the door, sneaking a peak at my dad — I knew I was different.