Minds are like parachutes- if the cord breaks, you crash into a tree and die.

[captainsblog]

The call came less than an hour after Eleanor left for work, and as with many things around here, I was all kinds of clueless about it.

Em's art teacher was calling her at home on a weekend. Not totally unheard of- the kid is one of her star pupils- but the call was about something I knew nothing about.

An art show reception. At a local college- the one across the street from her high school- taking place in less than an hour.  Can I go, Dad, canIcanIcanI?

Of course, I replied. I have some other stuff to take care of, but I'll drop you off and get back in time to see whatever's in this show you're supposed to see.

::insert loud "wrong answer" buzzer and sound of my only child's crest falling::

Um, no. She needed me to go with her. Eventually, it developed in my slow-moving cranium that the artwork in question was hers.

Emotion ensued.  Finally, after convincing her that I simply hadn't understood the significance of the show at hand (I've dropped her off at that school for anime shows in the past, but this was not that), we set out- and got to see a collection of work by young artists that the college's art department head called "stunning," and with good reason.

Emily did not win any of the assorted awards given out at the reception. Except my much clearer understanding of her needs, and knowing I'd gained some up-close appreciation of her talent:



(That's a self-portrait, if you haven't met the grrl.)

We've long since made up,  but I really wonder sometimes why I can miss some of the most obvious things under my nose.

Comments

[thanatos-kalos.livejournal.com]

She is really talented, have I mentioned that?