My Teenage Girl in a Picture

I took this cellphone picture of my daughter over the summer.

Photo by Dave Anthony

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but what does this picture say? Does it tell you that it was a gloriously warm summer day for a family excursion? Does it say how sweetly the breeze kissed our skins, and how the salt-filled air and the smell of the ocean invigorated our souls?

Does this picture tell you that we were at the beach, and the bridge is a crossway from the warm sand to a dirt footpath to the lighthouse?

Do you see the lighthouse? It’s the tower to the left, which, had it been night, would have lit up my girl’s pretty face. But it was daytime, so the lighthouse just stared at her face, while we looked at her back.

She’s an amazing girl you know. Brilliant, witty, and quirky. She’s already an extraordinary writer, and I’m amazed by how she tells stories, vibrant in words that light up her sometimes dark storylines. I think I’m a decent writer, but nowhere near as gifted as she is, when I was her age. And she’s only 13, so yes she’s a teenager. And when this picture was taken, she was “teenaging” hard, with all the emotional trappings.

So why was she upset? Why did she not want to join us in our state of beach-drunkenness, as we sank our toes into the wet sand and chased crabs that scurried about on the sharp…