The Same Hair

2009. We were up from San Clemente, California for our annual summer visit. All six of us packed into my parents’ house. The way we did every summer. A bright June day. I asked my dad if he wanted to come down to the river with me. We could talk and I could get some pictures. He said yes and drove.

He stood next to me while I pulled the darkslide from the film holder. We talked about baby Grace, a year old by then. Her hair had come in curly and white, puffing out in every direction, and my dad said he’d never seen anything like it. I told him I couldn’t stop myself from tussling it every time I saw her. She never seemed to mind.

I clicked the shutter.

It wasn’t until years later that I noticed the leaves in the photograph had the same wild white puff and impossible curl as Grace. The same hair.