Walking in the Woods with My Dad

755. When I was about a year older than this little girl, I have a strong memory. I was walking in the Sequoia National Forest alongside my Dad. Memories informed by photos, I was probably wearing my little red backpack. I profoundly felt that what we were doing was special, soul filling. I never wanted it to end. The smell of earth, the soft feel underfoot, my family all together on a path. We were in that park for that summer, and in the Rockies for several after, because Kodak had sent my Dad to teach photo walks to visitors of the National Parks. Our family came along – in a dark red station wagon – crossing the country to arrive to rustic housing on beautiful lands. I remember, at 3, desperately wanting to provide that experience for my kids when I grew up. So I asked my Dad, as he walked, what his job was. He said “I’m a photographer for Kodak.” I filed that little nugget away, tightly in my brain, trying not to forget. Cause, see, I had to marry a man with that exact job one day. Well, couldn’t find that guy, so guess I had to do it myself.

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