Father

I’m listening to “Half Moon Bay” (1973) by Bill Evans, an American jazz pianist. For the first time I think yet it sounds so familiar.

When I was a kid my father took me on numerous occasions to an attic where they held jazz concerts until it was closed down when laws regarding fire safety changed and became very strict.

So it is possible I attended Bill Evan’s concert somewhere in the late sixties but I’m not sure at all.

I loved it when my father took me to this club and I felt the jazz rhythm, enjoyed the music and felt proud being at his side, being with him. My father.He died when I was 13.

And here I freeze. Even after 41 years without him it is still hard for me to talk or write about my father without becoming emotional.

I know, time polishes memories, covers it with a golden patina, making things better that they may have been at that specific moment.

Being a gentleman, all these little attentions I give Princess, like he did with my Mum, my open mind and sense for art, mainly literature and photography are some of the gifts he gave me during his brief fatherhood.

I like to believe it was mainly my father who made who I am today.
On numerous occasions I would have loved to hear his approval.
It would be great to know if he is proud of whom I am today.

Last Sunday Princesses father took me aside and thanked me for taking such good care of his daughter, making her happy, standing next to her, as her life hasn’t been easy.
I am sure my Dad would agree and I’m sure he would embrace Princess as his son’s Partner.

Princess.

IR Horses

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