my father’s daughter
I sat in Bryant Park last night, talking to my dad on the phone to pass the time between work and rehearsal.
“So how’s it going out there?” Dad asked.
“Great! I love it.” I looked around me, surrounded by people, cars and buildings. I laughed, “I honestly do know how I came from you, Dad! I love city life.”
I could hear the bewilderment in Dad’s voice. “I don’t know either, kiddo. I’d likely move to Montana where there is nothing but trees.”
“There are trees here,” I interjected.
“But New York doesn’t have big game, like elk.”
“You’ve got me there! I have yet to see any big game or elk.”
I have no idea where my preference for big city life comes from, but it certainly didn’t come from my father, who would be content to live off the land in the middle of nowhere. Just typing that out makes me shudder! I don’t mind the outdoors, nature, fresh air and all of that, but only in small increments. How my backwoods father raised an ultra city girl I will never know! Two for that matter – Rosario is just as much of a city girl as I am!
Although our living preferences are polar opposites, I do take after my dad in some respects. You dont’ expect my mom to claim my goofy sense of humor or my love of SweetTarts, do you? She’s much to sane for that. The goofiness and SweetTarts are all Dad.
*There is too strong a resemblance in this photo for either of us to deny each other!