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  • Some photos are like testaments. Me at 16, boy-man serious. My dad, at 61 or so, months before he passed, what, looking confused, waiting for something. We were somewhere, not Texas, Colorado maybe. I have his back, he has my future. His deeply loved binoculars, always trying to study details in the distance. Always wanting to be in the mountains looking closer at the edges of things.

    I knew something of life by then. I knew it in a square jaw sort of way. Back straight, formal in my look into the camera. Pretending to be tough, perhaps.

    Now, I am just a couple years short of who he was then. With a square jawed son of my own. The distance in my father's eyes now belongs a bit to me. Maybe I'm not as vulnerable, but still I see the echo.

    Waiting for something, looking in the distance.
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