The Narrator

For my father

You are not in many of the family videos, you were always the one to record the Christmas Eve dinners that you, yourself, most likely cooked, or the first time we built a huge snowman in the cold Thanksgiving desert snow of Albuquerque. But your voice always narrated the scene, giving us perspective and humor of the events transpiring.

But there is one happy moment of you and mom standing in front of the mirror in the Ritz Carlton one Thanksgiving, where mom is in a cotton robe from the hotel, enjoying the, at the time, rare luxury for us, she is standing there, no make up on, teasing you in the mirror, saying something about being, or feeling like, a queen. You, trying to patiently record the night and the room, are laughingly annoyed by her playful jests.

It’s my favorite memory of you on camera, perhaps the only memory of you on camera, save for your shy moments of you waving off mom, when she tried to record you on the couch watching the football game, or us playing Twister.

It made me remember how happy we were then, and how much you gave us, from recording us, to driving us, from planning trips to family, to trips with family, you organized them all, the unseen narrator and guide to all of our trips, the unseen narrator and guide to all of our happy moments, the unseen narrator and guide to all of our love, making us feel like pampered royalty through your loving eyes and guiding plans for us all.