Every now and then, Carter has asked me about my dad. "Where's your dad," he asks. I tell him, "My dad lives in Michigan, and when we go there this summer, you will meet him." Carter is very interested in family relationships, who people are, and where they are. (Remember, Carter is the "dad" of his own son, Alex, the water balloon baby.)
So there we were in July at Platte River Campground, all of us hanging out in our pine canopied family room. Dad and Ula arrived from nearby Interlochen for their annual camp dinner with us. Dad had barely escaped the car when Carter walked over to him, took his hand and said simply, "C'mon".
Carter led Dad to Kathie & Carl's campsite next to ours where all the toys were, handed Dad a paddle and engaged him in a game of catch. I know, and am absolutely sure, that was the first time in over 50 years that my father played ball.
That I had my camera in hand is a tender mercy of the Lord. I will never forget the sweetness of what I witnessed in these few moments. With or without the pictures.
2 comments:
This is the sweetest story. There is one, now and then, like this. They are rare. I'm glad Carter is the one.
What a beautiful photo and story. That first picture is worth a thousand words.
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