i was about 10 years old when my parents split up.

my dad moved into his own house a mere 6 minutes away from my mom’s. it was ideal…in a not commonly ideal situation. i didn’t really mind their split. it just gave me an extra bedroom and a place to escape from whichever parent i needed to get away from (read: my mom…never ever my dad).

it was 1991 and posters were way cool. so, my dad and i popped on over to the nearby wherehouse and bought the gem pictured above. as soon as we got home, i put it up on my door. i loved it. i loved the heart in the rose stem. i loved the wild make-up. (don’t judge me, it was the early 90’s)

eventually i grew out of the poster. my dad never took it down though, even after i switched to a different bedroom in his home. and for years afterward, i would hear him tell the story to other people that i picked out a poster with the words ‘forget me not’ on it…he interpreted it to mean that i feared he would forget me. which couldn’t be further from the truth. i never corrected his story. i loved his version. i loved his interpretation of my childhood whim.

he told the story up until he was no longer able to speak…he even told it to me sometimes “remember when you said ‘forget me not?'”

just like i loved his interpretation, i hope he loves mine.
of bringing him forget-me-nots.
it just seems appropriate.