Sunday, June 15, 2014

Graceland

Growing up in north Mississippi, going to Graceland (Elvis Presley's Memphis home) is kind of a right of passage. It's cheesy and dated and expensive, but it's something you just do. And I have never been. 

We moved to Memphis when I was 8 and around that time, I started begging my dad to take me to Graceland every year for my birthday. My birthday is in January, the same month as Elvis, so he always gave the excuse that we would go at a "more quiet" time. So again, sometime in the summer I would mention going but Death Week is in august and it's crazy then, too. Maybe in the fall. The year would go by and then it would be January again, another year without a trip to Graceland. 

As the years went by, it kind of became a joke between us. When I turned 18, I reminded my dad he still owed me a trip to Graceland and we laughed. Surely we would go before I went to college. Or before I moved out. Or before I got married. Or before I graduated college. Or before the baby was born. 

Needless to say, we have still yet to make it to Graceland together. 

I think our Graceland trip (or lack thereof) is a pretty fitting representation of our relationship.

We always say we are going to talk about things but we never do. We say we are going to call more but we don't really. We say that we are going to Graceland but never make it. We have good intentions, but never quite bring them to fruition. 

But that's ok. That's the way we are. We certainly aren't ones to confront any issues. We both know they are there and what we ought to do. But we chose to put them off, saying we will eventually get to them. It's an unspoken understanding between us. And it's ok. 

One day we will be ready. One day, we will make it to Graceland.


This is my favorite picture of me and my dad. It was right before we walked down the aisle at my wedding. I just love that we both have this expression of "o shit" on our faces. I'm sure we started smiling 2 seconds after this was taken (because we were quite happy) , but I love how this conveys all of our nerves and anxiousness. We are nervous, anxious people, my dad and I. 
 

Soooo, I'm pretty sure my dad reads my blog (hey daddy! (Yes, I'm a grown woman and still call my dad 'daddy'. Deal with it)) so if you're reading this, I hope you don't mind what I've written. This is my journal of sorts and I felt like writing this today.  If you never want to talk about it, that's ok. Or if you do, that's ok, too. I love you. Happy Father's Day. 


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