singularity

It is interesting how these events stick in us, every detail. The photo was a singularity. The little girl with the perfect Shirley Temple curly hair, introduced everywhere as ‘Daddy’s little girl.’

It was thirty years ago, but he could describe and remember every detail – – the dew, the plastic easter eggs, Gran’s voice and the smell of champagne brunch.

Those ridiculous pearls!

She burst into the room suddenly, wrapping his legs in a strong hug.

“Eafster!”, she said with toothy three year old grin, “Eafster Hug!”

He looked down into his daughter’s big brown eyes. She would soon be at the age where innocence gives way to discovery. He was excited and terrified for her in the same thought.

“Come on Phil, we are going to be late!,” his wife called from other room.

Phil set the picture of his childhood back up on the shelf and headed out to the Easter Egg Hunt.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed, or unhappy, remembering his years as Kylie. He just wasn’t wearing costumes any longer.