Winter, 1986-1987

My father reads a bedtime story to my brother and me.

This is pretty self-explanatory. I love the look on Paul’s face and also the flannel bathrobe my dad is wearing. Just looking at it makes me think of the smell of his aftershave, the goofy voices he would use when he read us books, how I used to follow along silently, trying to remember how to pronounce the bigger words I didn’t know.

Not so self-explanatory? The fact that my dad is nonchalantly wearing a plastic fireman’s hat for no good reason. THAT? That is just anybody’s freaking guess.